Magical Me
by TheDailyFibb
Summary: Blaine is a friendly Hufflepuff seventh-year with a brilliant group of friends. Kurt is an independent Slytherin Prefect with big dreams beyond school. When the two of them suddenly find themselves in the same Defence Against the Dark Arts class, with Professor Gilderoy Lockhart, sparks are surely going to fly.
1. Chapter 1

Blaine always dreaded the Underground on 1st September. Here he was, with two humongous suitcases, a rucksack and a birdcage containing a beautiful yellow canary. Try to get across London without getting any funny looks then. Of course, Blaine's parents never even suggested offering him a lift and he knew better than to ask. He assured himself that, as always, it would all be worth it when he sat down on the Hogwarts Express.

He couldn't believe it was his last year. The time seemed to have flown by in an amazing whirlwind and he had no idea where he was going to go after the end of his education. He knew he had a bright future ahead of him, though; all the teachers said so.

Once he arrived at King's Cross, Blaine began to feel the familiar excited butterflies in his stomach, and struggled into the station. He grabbed a nearby trolley and heaved his stuff painstakingly onto it. Hearing a voice that he knew all too well, he looked up and beamed. "Mike!"

"Hey, Blaine!" The two patted each others' shoulders in greeting and Mike went back to grab his trolley, pushing it over to him. "Do you think I've done a good job fitting in, then?"

Blaine glanced over his friend's outfit: jeans, trainers, jumper. He nodded his approval. "Very nice," he laughed. "I'm impressed."

"Thanks," Mike grinned. "So, you ready for your N.E.W.T.s this year, then?"

"As I'll ever be, I think," Blaine sighed. "You?"

Mike shrugged. "My dad's really getting on my case about them," he replied, looking apprehensively back at his parents. "I'd better go say goodbye properly – but I'll meet you on the train?"

"Sure," Blaine said, heading towards the barriers between platforms 9 and 10. On the way, he spied Trent, who was chatting with a bunch of the other Ravenclaw boys. The two exchanged friendly smiles, but Blaine pressed on. He didn't want to intrude. He didn't know Trent too well, and, as a Hufflepuff, didn't want to inconvenience the newly-appointed Head Boy. He shook his head. That was such an odd thought. People his age, Prefects and Head Boys.

He stowed his luggage safely on the overhead rack as he settled into his compartment. A few minutes later, a Slytherin boy with brown hair pulled open the door of his compartment. His eyes fell on Blaine and he paused. "Oh. Sorry." He shut the door and continued past.

Blaine had recognised the boy as Kurt Hummel, Slytherin Prefect. He'd been a favourite for Head Boy. Blaine was glad that Trent had got it, though. He himself had always got nothing but crap from Slytherins, especially as a Muggleborn, and he disliked them all intently. He was still glowering at the door when Mike opened it, followed closely by their Gryffindor friend Sam.

"What's up?" Sam asked as he sat down.

Blaine shook himself, and then his head. "Nothing, sorry. Just thinking."

The two boys smiled back at him, before Mike launched into a conversation about Quidditch leagues. Blaine settled back into his seat, ready to enjoy the journey with his friends.

* * *

The Hogwarts Express pulled out of Platform 9¾ as normal, at 11 o'clock on 1st September. Kurt leant his forehead against the window and looked out at the countryside, which sparkled prettily in the Indian summer haze. The first thing he'd done when he'd got on the train (after finding himself a compartment on his own and securing his luggage) was change into his school robes. He was never sure what he hated more: the snarky comments and sideways glances he got from the other Slytherins whenever they saw his Muggle clothes, or the gasps and looks of apprehension he got from the rest of the school the moment he put on his Slytherin Prefect badge. Well, good thing Kurt Hummel preferred to roll solo.

As the journey rolled on, Kurt found himself humming a song that had been playing on the radio earlier when his dad had driven him to King's Cross. He sighed. Even thinking about his dad made his chest tight. And the amount of comments he had received insulting his father had reached new heights. How "Half-blood Hummel" had managed to score Prefect two years ago had been anyone's guess.

So what if his dad was a Muggle? It didn't mean anything. The sooner the other Slytherins saw that, the better. He'd still been so proud when Kurt had got his Hogwarts letter six years ago. In fact, he'd insisted on being twice as proud since Kurt's mother couldn't be.

Kurt smiled sadly out the window. He missed his mum. He missed the charms that she'd do for him when his dad wasn't looking . He missed how exciting she'd made magic seem.

Elizabeth Hummel had been in Hufflepuff. Kurt had hoped to also be, but the Sorting Hat's word was final. Although Kurt's dad insisted it didn't matter, it mattered to Kurt. And apparently, it mattered to the other Slytherins.

He couldn't wait for the end of the year. Leaving Hogwarts for good behind him and getting that job at St. Mungo's that he'd wanted ever since his mum had quit it to raise him. He'd even asked about work experience, but they didn't offer it to people without N.E.W.T.s.

"Anything off the trolley, Kurt?"

The voice of the witch broke Kurt's bubble of self-pity. Even after six years of attending Hogwarts, he still classed this woman as one of his closest friends. He didn't even know her name.

He smiled. "No, thank you."

She shrugged and handed him a pumpkin pasty. "Come on. On the house."

Kurt took it and nodded gratefully. "Thanks."

"Everything alright?"

He almost laughed. "Nothing's ever alright." He sighed. "My dad had a heart attack while I was away last year. He had no way of contacting me. He could have died, and I..." He wiped his eyes frustratedly, and exhaled loudly.

The witch nodded understandingly. "It's not your fault, Kurt. How could it be? It's just all the more reason to work hard this year, get that job at St. Mungo's, and sort him out yourself." She smiled. "Just one year left. You'll be fine."

The moment she left, Kurt started doubting it.

* * *

**A/N: Hello everyone! So I've been away for a while and not updating my "A Transfer to Dalton Academy" fic for a while - sorry about that. Shameless self-promoting there, if you wanna check it out. I thought that to get over my mental block, I'd start another fic, so here you go. This is gonna be one with Author's Notes so... please follow/favourite/review as you please. This hasn't been beta-ed or anything and I don't own Harry Potter, Glee or any of their characters. Thanks for reading!**


	2. Chapter 2

"Gilderoy Lockhart's our new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher?" Blaine said for the sixth time, poking absent-mindedly at his shepherd's pie and glancing up again at the professors' table.

"Geez, Blaine, get over yourself," Mike groaned, frustration beginning to creep into his voice. "Yes, Lockhart's your new teacher: so what?"

Blaine sighed and shook his head. "Have you read his books?"

"Can't say I have," Mike replied unenthusiastically, reaching for more pasta. "Why, what does he write about?"

"What he's done." Blaine rested his chin on his hand and looked again at the blond professor, who was talking animatedly to the other staff. "All the things he's fought – werewolves, vampires, ghouls – and the people he's saved. I'd love to do stuff like that."

"Love to do him, you mean," Mike mumbled to himself.

"What?"

"Nothing."

Blaine finally ate a forkful of food. "I can't believe you dropped Defence Against the Dark Arts," he said scathingly.

Mike shook his head. "I can't believe you didn't," he responded.

"Touché." But Blaine loved the subject and nothing Mike could say to him would influence his view. He hoped to use it when he someday got a job – though what for, he had no idea. He wished that Hogwarts offered better careers advice.

The two of them ate in silence for a while; although it was mostly Mike eating and Blaine gazing dreamily in Professor Lockhart's direction.

"Do you think he'll teach us how to kill vampires?"

"Maybe, I guess."

"Or he could tell us how to cure lycanthropy. He said he was working on that in 'Wanderings with Werewolves'."

"I don't really care."

"Or maybe he'll – "

"Seriously! Blaine!" Mike pointed at him disparagingly with his fork. "Shut up and eat something. You're doing my head in."

Blaine sheepishly downed a glass of pumpkin juice. Secretly, though, he couldn't wait for Professor Sprout to hand out their timetables.

"Have you seen Tina today?" he asked, as a brave stab at changing the conversation topic.

Mike nodded and tried to speak through a mouthful of food. "We met up at King's Cross but she went to get a compartment with a couple of her sixth-year friends. I think we're gonna meet up at the weekend, but she might come round to the common room later in the week." He smiled coyly before spilling pumpkin juice on himself while trying to pour it.

"So long as she stays out our dorm." Blaine wrinkled his nose. "I don't trust you two in there."

Mike laughed. "What do you think we'd do?"

"Honestly, Mike, I don't know and I don't want to know." Blaine sighed and shook his head. "I don't want nightmares."

"Oh, not again," Mike sighed. "Okay, you win; I'm not going to have a repeat of that."

Despite their continued and animated conversation, Blaine still kept an eye on Gilderoy Lockhart until the students all filed out to go to their dorms for the night.

* * *

Kurt hated his dorm: a group of four poxy pure-bloods with nothing better to do than insult people. 'People', in this case, mostly meant him.

"Hey, Hummel," one of them jeered as they headed up the stairs to their dorm. "Had a good summer?"

"Oh, no, wait," another responded, "he can't have done; he was in the Muggle world with his ape of a father."

That, apparently, merited a round of applause from the rest of the boys.

Kurt feigned an inability to hear them. After six years of the same treatment, he'd almost mastered the technique. Head turned away, stare at something – anything – and keep your hands busy.

Tonight, though, he just couldn't do it. The comments hit hard and stung, despite his desperation to avoid reacting.

"Why don't you just put us all in detention, hmm, Hummel? Afraid we're too much for you? Four measly average Slytherins against the mighty Prefect Half-Blood Hummel?"

"Was your daddy proud of you, Hummel? Or did he just grab another banana out the tree?"

"Was your mummy proud of you? Oh, wait..." That one got the biggest reaction from the other boys.

"Yes, you're all very funny," Kurt said angrily, climbing onto his bed and pulling the green curtains around himself, shielding him.

Yeah, thought Kurt. I wish.

The taunting went on well into the night. Kurt didn't even change his clothes and just slept in his robes, using his suitcase as a pillow.

He dreamt that he was lying on the grass next to the lake. It looked to be summer because there was the really bright kind of sun that you only really got in July. It was reflecting off the water and making everything sparkle.

Kurt could sense someone near him, next to him. He could feel the body warmth and the rustle of fabric on fabric when he adjusted his position.

He'd had dreams like this before: lifelike, very lifelike. According to Professor Trelawney, he had clear Seer potential.

He tried to move, to see who he was lying next to, but his dream wouldn't allow him to. All of a sudden, he felt a hand slip into his, rubbing gently along his thumb. A warmth spread across Kurt's chest unlike anything he'd ever felt before.

And then he heard it.

It hadn't been said – at least, not directly. Kurt could only really hear echoes of it and would never have recognised the voice.

But he recognised the words.

I love you.

There was no mistaking it. Kurt lay there, staring up at the bright blue sky, feeling absolutely and perfectly happy, gripping tightly onto the hand next to him.

He knew he'd returned the words, though he wasn't sure how he knew.

I love you too.

When he woke up, he realised he'd been crying in his sleep. Also, the other Slytherins had all pelted him with ink before they'd gone down to breakfast.

* * *

**A/N: *sidles in from backstage* Hello again. *hangs head* I'm sorry, I know it's been a while (unless you're reading this in the future, in which case: hey!) and I'm not going to pelt you with excuses, even though I could. Just know that both this fic and my other one "A Transfer to Dalton Academy" remain close to my heart and in a large number of my waking thoughts, so I haven't stopped writing them on purpose. I've actually got a great plan for this story, so... you're gonna have to wait until I've written it, but it'll be great. This has again not been beta-ed and any feedback is hugely welcome! Favourite/follow/review as you see fit! Thanks so much for reading!**


	3. Chapter 3

Morning came quickly for Blaine. Before he knew it, he was heading up to breakfast with Mike. In the Entrance Hall, Mike spotted Tina on the stairs and rushed to greet her. Rather than awkwardly third-wheel all morning, Blaine decided to sit alone at the Hufflepuff table, and eventually found himself surrounded by second-years.

"Hiya, Blaine," one smiled.

"Oh – hi, Ernie." Blaine made an effort to return the friendly gesture. "Anything exciting happen over the summer?"

Ernie shook his head. "Not really, but – you know Harry Potter?"

Blaine almost laughed. How would he not? "Sure," he said, his eyes flickering over the Gryffindor table. "What about him?"

"Well, yesterday – I mean, last night – apparently he and his friend, Ron Weasley..." Ernie took a great breath, and then spoke at doublespeed. "They missed the train yesterday and so they drove a magical flying car here and then Professor Snape caught them and was going to expel them, but then Professor Dumbledore saved them." He beamed proudly.

"Wow," Blaine responded, eyebrows raised. "That's... are you sure that that's true?"

Ernie nodded animatedly. "Well, Justin heard it from Anthony, and he heard it from Susan, and she heard it from Lavender – and Lavender's _in Gryffindor_! So she must have heard it from Harry or Ron!"

"Alright, then," Blaine said, pouring himself a glass of juice.

"Actually, speak of the devil – Justin!" Ernie waved his friend over and Justin sat down next to Ernie, opposite Blaine.

"Morning, Blaine," Justin said, grabbing a bowl.

"Hey." Blaine felt it had gotten a bit too weird, sitting and talking to these twelve-year-olds at breakfast rather than people his own age, so he busied himself with eating in the hope that it would occupy him – _at least,_ he thought, _until Professor Sprout gives out the timetables_.

He always forgot how good the food was here, and, as it turned out, distracting himself by eating worked like a charm. He barely looked up until Professor Sprout poked him very hard in the back with his timetable.

"Come on, Blaine, you lazy lump," she scolded good-naturedly, handing him the sheet.

"Sorry – thanks, Professor," Blaine smiled, taking it.

"You've got to be concentrating if you want to pass your NEWTs – now's as good a time as any to start."

"Sure."

Off Professor Sprout bustled, handing out timetables and friendly smiles. It was at times like these that Blaine was so glad to be in Hufflepuff.

He glanced down at his timetable, followed the line from Wednesday... and smiled.

This afternoon he had his first Defence Against the Dark Arts lesson, with Gilderoy Lockhart.

* * *

Snape, not unlike the rest of Slytherin house, intensely disliked Kurt. It was out of utter dedication to his career plan that Kurt put up with him at all. As it was, he'd been itching to pour to Draught of Living Death over Snape's head for years.

"Not finished clearing up yet, Mr Hummel?" the professor asked derisively for the fourth time. He'd kept Kurt in at lunch to wipe up the spilt ingredients of a more favoured – and less talented – student.

Kurt kept his eyes down, swallowing his retort and his pride as he continued scrubbing at the mashed dragon eyes stuck to the floor. Don't react. Don't let him know he's getting to you.

Ten minutes and several more snide comments later, Snape allowed Kurt to head to lunch. Kurt pulled himself up off his knees, stretched out his back, and left.

To add insult to injury, Kurt checked his timetable only to be reminded that after a lonely lunch, he had Defence Against the Dark Arts.

Kurt loved the subject. He really did. It was the one thing he'd chosen to do for fun rather than because it gave him a better shot at St. Mungo's. But he felt as though Gilderoy Lockhart was an absolute poser and he missed Professor Quirrel. Okay, the guy had been possessed by Voldemort, but he'd been a really knowledgeable buy and a spectacular teacher. Lockhart seemed a bit too... blond, for Kurt's liking.

Lunch crawled by at a snail's pace, with angry glares hitting Kurt from all directions. Even the Bloody Baron kept sticking his head through the wall behind the table to scowl. Kurt ate in silence, his eyes sliding back and forth across the empty table spaces opposite him. He didn't think it would be getting to him this fast, being lonely. He'd been so used to it, his whole time here – but the situation with his dad had definitely struck a nerve. He couldn't have his dad being ill – dying – and to just be here, hating life. Not after everything with his mum.

Finally, the bell went, and Kurt sighed and got up to leave.

* * *

**A/N: So, I know, I suck at updating everything I do. I'm sorry. But here you go: another chapter for you all! And I can promise the next one will be up... soon-ish, and it's already way longer than the ones so far, so I hope you enjoy it. As per usual, this hasn't been beta-ed or anything, and I really love getting feedback so favourite/follow/review as you deem appropriate! And, if you like the Glee part of this story, maybe check out my other fic "A Transfer to Dalton Academy"? Thank you so, so much for reading, and I'll see you all super soon!**


	4. Chapter 4

Blaine was disappointed to see rather fewer people he recognised than he expected to standing outside Professor Lockhart's classroom. To his surprise, it was the Slytherins that he knew: Rachel Berry and Sebastian Smythe. Blaine and Rachel went back a little bit: they used to be paired in Care of Magical Creatures, and the two of them got along civilly enough. Blaine had met Sebastian the year before, in the Owlery. He'd been sending a letter to Cooper, his older brother, and – though he never found out to whom Sebastian was writing – Sebastian had made a couple of dirty jokes and Blaine felt that that must, to some degree, make them friends. Either way, he dropped them both a friendly nod to ward off any future tensions and leant against a nearby wall.

After a few moments, the door flew open and Gilderoy Lockhart burst out of the room. Blaine swallowed and tried to control the knotting of his stomach. Professor Lockhart was wearing scarlet robes that made him look slightly as though he was on fire. Had he changed since breakfast? Blaine struggled to remember.

"Hello, hello, hello!" Lockhart exclaimed, beaming round at them. Blaine found himself beaming back. "Welcome, my wonderful seventh-years! Please, please, please, come in!" The man all but skipped back inside the classroom and beckoned enthusiastically for them all to follow. "Take a chair, all of you! That's it." He continued to grin around at them while they all sat. To Blaine's surprise, the back of the classroom filled up exceptionally quickly, leaving him the further forward person, in the second row.

Professor Lockhart didn't seem perturbed, though, and began his lesson. "So, I trust you've all got your copies of my full published works with you?"

Blaine nodded and smiled, assuming his classmates behind him did the same thing.

"Excellent!" Lockhart beamed again. "Well, in that case, I think we'd – "

Just then, the door of the classroom opened once more and another Slytherin figure hurried in. It was Kurt Hummel, the boy who'd crashed Blaine's compartment on the Hogwarts Express the day before. He was carrying his bag in both arms and was soaking wet. Blaine saw his eyes glance over the back row, then the next, until he eventually and begrudgingly took a seat a few down from Blaine, on his row.

"Now, Mr...?" Professor Lockhart seemed unimpressed by the late arrival. _And quite right, too_, thought Blaine.

"Hummel, Professor, Kurt Hummel."

"Well, Mr Hummel," Lockhart began, rolling the name around his mouth in a way that, in Blaine's opinion, was completely adorable. "It's not like a Prefect to be late for my first lesson with him."

Blaine agreed wholeheartedly. He'd never pass up an opportunity to spend time with Professor Lockhart.

Kurt Hummel wiped his dripping face on his dripping sleeve and put his bag down heavily on the table in front of him. Blaine noticed that the strap had been cut, extremely cleanly. The satchel sat in a little pool of water on the desk. "Yes, Professor," Hummel said, showing a spectacular amount of gall by holding Lockhart's gaze with a steely glare. "Won't happen again, as far as I can help it."

Professor Lockhart, commendably oblivious of his student's current state, nodded and said, "well, you'd better," before carrying on with his lesson unfazed.

Gilderoy Lockhart certainly had a knack for public speaking. Blaine was entranced by the man's stories for almost half an hour, before Lockhart suggested that they pair up and practise defensive spells.

"I'm thinking of starting a duelling club, you know," he said airily. "For the younger students, of course – but you lot can recap for me all your previous knowledge, since there may ne a few... gaps, from your previous educator."

That was fair enough. Blaine reckoned that if he'd been possessed by He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, he'd've failed a couple of classes too. Now, though, the question was raised as to whom Blaine could pair with.

"So, Mr Hummel," Lockhart announced, flourishing an arm in the Slytherin's direction, "since you're on the same row, you can be paired with Mr...?"

Blaine was too distracted by the sky-blue eyes to notice that they were looking straight at him. He swallowed quickly and responded, "Anderson, Professor."

"Mr Anderson," Lockhart finished brightly. Blaine took a breath and tried not to react to the astounding way the Professor said his name. He managed to get away with a small smile before his brain caught up with recent events. _Wait, what? Paired with Kurt Hummel?_ The smile slid away surprisingly easily.

Lockhart had moved further back down the room, pairing up his other students. Blaine looked at Kurt, trying to gauge his next action.

Kurt stood up, picked up his wand off the desk and began to bridge the gap between them, squelching down the row. Blaine sighed and went to meet him halfway.

They nodded politely at each other; exchanging actual dialogue seemed out of the question. Water still occasionally dripped off the ends of Kurt's nose.

Lockhart had settled himself down behind his desk at the front, and Blaine immediately turned to see him as he talked. "Alright, everyone, let's start things off. First, let's try a Disarming spell." He paused, holding one finger up. "But first..." He flicked his wand through the air, and all the desks suddenly were stacked neatly against the nearest wall, creating a huge space in the centre of the floor. "There you go," the Professor said, with a wink. "Health and safety."

That wink. Blaine allowed himself a moment to mentally envision it again before turning back to his partner, who was standing next to him in silence and a puddle. "Do you want to go first?" Blaine offered unenthusiastically, raising his eyebrows.

Kurt gave a shrug that seemed to say, "fine," and raised his wand. "Expelliarmus," he muttered, flicking his wrist sharply.

Blaine felt a hidden force shove his hand back and his wand was thrown out of his grip and across the room, landing a few feet from Lockhart's desk.

"Good cast, Mr Hummel!" Lockhart exclaimed, leaping up and snatching Blaine's wand from the floor. "If you carry on like that, I'll be most impressed!"

Blaine felt a surge of jealousy. It was only a Disarming spell, for crying out loud. On the plus side, though, it gave him an excuse to go get his wand from Professor Lockhart. He walked over, flashed his most charming smile (nothing on Gilderoy Lockhart's five times winner of Witch Weekly's Most Charming Smile Award smile, but it was the best he could do), and help out an expectant hand.

"Go on, Mr Anderson," Lockhart said encouragingly, giving Blaine back his wand. "Give him a run for his money."

Blaine cast a perfect Disarming spell, and Kurt's wand flew from his grip and hit Sebastian Smythe of the side of the head. He turned from his conversation with Rachel, fuming.

"You throwing your wand at me, Hummel?" he shouted confrontationally across the classroom.

Kurt closed his eyes slowly before responding. "No, Sebastian, I'm not," he replied. "That's what happens when you're hit with a Disarming spell: your wand flies away."

Blaine considered jumping in at this point to apologise, but he assured himself that it wouldn't help (and, if it did, it would only help Kurt anyway).

Sebastian began to cross the room, Kurt's wand in his left hand and his own in his right. He threw Kurt's wand at him, hard. It smacked harshly on his arm and clattered to the floor.

"Alright, Hummel, pick it up; we're duelling," Sebastian announced dramatically, brandishing his own wand.

Kurt visibly sighed, his wet robes sticking to his slumping shoulders. "I'm not duelling you, Sebastian," he said, stowing his wand away in an inside pocket of his robes.

"What's wrong?" came Rachel's loud voice from the back of the classroom. "You scared Bas'll beat you?"

"Yeah, you scared I'll bear you, Half-Blood?" Sebastian goaded.

Blaine remembered the taunts that "Half-Blood Hummel" had borne since their first year. Being Muggle-born, Blaine had always disapproved of the Slytherins for their pure-blood complex that they all seemed to have, and resolved to no longer direct friendly nods to Sebastian – or, for that matter, Rachel.

It was at this moment that Professor Lockhart decided to pipe up. "Oh, _you're_ Half-Blood Hummel? You've got quite a name for yourself there, I think."

Blaine didn't know whether Lockhart genuinely didn't realise the important that blood status carried in Slytherinm or – rather like Blaine – that he just didn't mind watching Kurt suffer, but either way, it had a huge effect on Kurt. His eyes widened, and almost seemed to light up with anger. He spun around and – to gasps from everyone – raised his wand to Professor Lockhart. "Don't call me that!" he yelled, before turning on his heel and heading through the remaining crowd of students, which parted into two seas of shocked faces, watching him pass.

"Detention, Mr Hummel!" Lockhart shouted wildly. "Get back here, now!" He leapt up from his chair and ran to the door, but, with a flick of Kurt's wand, the desks that were stacked against each wall toppled, and fell.

As the door slammed shut, a tower of desks near Blaine was leaning precariously, and all of a sudden the bottom one slipped and Blaine had to jump backwards to prevent being flattened. Several other students only closely escaped an imminent visit to the hospital wing. The risk of death by desk forced everyone, including Professor Lockhart, to the very front of the classroom until everything stopped moving.

"Right ho, everyone," Lockhart said in a kind of daze. "I think we'll leave it there. If you could sort out the desks – thank you, Miss Berry – and then I think you're all free to go."

Blaine grabbed his bag from the mess and, on impulse, picked up Kurt's too. It really was an inconvenience to carry, with its cut strap and being still dripping wet.

"I'll give this back to him, Professor," Blaine said, showing the teacher Kurt's bag.

"Excellent, Mr Anderson, thank you very much." Blaine felt relieved that Professor Lockhart was back to his old bubbly self, and smiled before turning to go.

* * *

The first thing that Kurt realised once he turned the corner out the classroom was that he'd forgotten his bag. But as it was, he couldn't give up any more of his pride, and – judging by the incredible amount of noise clattering down the corridor – he couldn't've even if he'd wanted to.

Rather than turning right, towards the stairs, Kurt resolved to go left down the corridor, wait for all his classmates to go past, and then return to the room and (hopefully) sneak his bag out from under Lockhart's nose.

What a moron. He was even more dense in person. Plus, on top of his idiocy and lack of tact, his writing style was somewhat clunky and extremely temperamental. Kurt had barely made it through one of Lockhart's books over the summer before he'd thrown it across the room in exasperation. What kind of teacher puts all his own books on the syllabus anyway?

Kurt settled himself into a cosy alcove by the huge frosted window. With any luck, no-one would even glance his way.

To Kurt's surprise, the first student to round the corner was none other than Blaine Anderson. He was walking quickly and turned right seemingly automatically, before throwing a glance over his shoulder in Kurt's direction. He paused, the two boys locking eyes, and retraced his steps.

"What?" Kurt barked after a moment, unsure how much hostility to put into his voice. He was painfully aware that Sebastian and Rachel and the rest of their class could be heading down the corridor any second.

Blaine held up Kurt's bag without a word. He raised his eyebrows questioningly.

Immediately, Kurt felt bad. His classmate had done the kind thing and brought him his bad, and he had been nothing but rude. Kurt had to remind himself that this whole situation was basically Blaine's fault anyway. He stood up quickly and strode over to the other boy, grabbing his bag firmly with both hands. "Thanks," he said, trying to both sound sincere and avoid looking Blaine in the face. Once the satchel was successfully transferred, Kurt made to go.

"Why are you all wet?" Blaine asked suddenly, causing Kurt to start.

Kurt turned back to Blaine, his damp robes clinging disgustingly to his back at the mention of them. "The rest of the Slytherins paid Peeves in dungbombs to assault me," he replied tonelessly. "He pelted me with water balloons and slashed my bag." It began to somewhat of a struggle to keep his voice even, so Kurt decided that the best course of action would be to leave as quickly as possible, and ideally before he did something stupid like cry.

This time, Blaine didn't shout after him.

* * *

**A/N: Two chapters in two days - I'm doing well! I hope you like this one, because it's quite a bit longer than the chapters are usually. Remember to favourite/follow/review if you deem it worthy, and thank you so so much for reading!**


	5. Chapter 5

Blaine was decidedly less thrilled the following morning when he discovered he had his second Defence Against the Dark Arts class in as many days straight after breakfast.

"And he just stormed out?" Mike asked him interestedly. Blaine had been recounting their disastrous previous lesson with Professor Lockhart.

Yeah, and charmed all the desks to fall over," Blaine added, taking another bite of his bacon. "Professor Lockhart must've really struck a nerve or something. It was weird."

Mike shook his head. "It'd suck being a half-blood in Slytherin," he commented. "With all their blood status pride and everything..."

"I know," Blaine agreed. He still didn't like Kurt – far from it – but he thought he sympathised. It was never fun to be bullied, after all. "He didn't have to take it out on Professor Lockhart, though," he added scornfully.

Mike shrugged in a non-committal way and took a swig of pumpkin juice. "Maybe just try not to piss off your partner, okay?"

Blaine sighed and nodded. Mike was right, of course. He couldn't afford to fail any classes over any stupid arguments. "Yeah, you're right," he said, poking his food with his fork. "I'll just have to grin and bear it, I guess."

"Who knows," Mike speculated, "if you put aside your differences, you might like each other."

Blaine rolled his eyes. "Like that's going to happen," he snorted. "He is a self-serving, self-righteous – "

Mike laughed and shook his head. "I'm winding you up, Blaine."

"I knew that."

"Sure you did. Listen, all I'm saying is don't screw anything up. Keep your friends close..."

"...but your enemies closer," Blaine finished. "It might be useful not having him hate me, I guess."

"There we go!" Mike clapped his hands triumphantly. "Something productive same out of this after all."

Blaine was about to open his mouth to reply, when –

"Mike!"

Tina bounded over to their table and slumped down next to her boyfriend, greeting him with a peck on the cheek. Mike grinned. "Hi, you."

"Morning, Tina," Blaine said loudly in a failed attempt to break third-wheel tension.

"Hey, Blaine," Tina replied distractedly without looking at him. She then shook herself and turned to face him. "Wait – Blaine," she said quickly. "Mike said you had a lesson with the new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher – how'd it go?"

Blaine cleared his throat and glanced over at Gilderoy Lockhart in his brightly coloured robes. "He definitely knows his stuff." _It's really hot. _"I think he's still finding his feet in the job a bit." _He's kind of clueless and completely adorable. _"Hopefully he'll stick around." _At least long enough for me to get the confidence to flirt a little._

After a pause that Blaine could tell was slightly longer than average, Mike coughed loudly and said, "well, I think Blaine might be needing a cold shower before be heads off to any lessons."

Tina laughed uncertainly and excused herself, promising to speak to the two of them later.

"Seriously, Blaine, calm down," Mike advised. "He's your teacher; you can't give him that sappy puppy-dog look all day without someone noticing."

Blaine sighed and stared down at the table. "Sorry," he muttered. "He's just so..."

"Unavailable," Mike finished for him with a stern look.

Pause.

"Unavailable," Blaine repeated. "Right."

* * *

Kurt was seriously considering skipping his second Defence Against the Dark Arts lesson. Lockhart almost certainly wouldn't even notice he wasn't there, and he felt sure that Blaine Anderson would be happy enough not to be paired with him.

_No_, he scolded himself. _Education – my education – is important and I won't let some stupid bullying break me down, not after putting up with it for so long._

Only one year left. One year and he'd be out. He could do this.

So, he swung his newly repaired satchel over his shoulder and headed for the third floor.

Surprisingly, the only person already waiting outside Professor Lockhart's classroom was Blaine Anderson. Kurt felt his jaw tighten at the sight of him. Okay, yes, he'd done something nice yesterday, but it hardly made up for the years of crap Kurt had suffered, and, from the steely nod he gave, Kurt doubted they'd be best buddies any time soon. They waited in silence for some extraneous force to come along and make things slightly less awkward.

Lockhart leapt out of his classroom, a huge smile plastered across his face. "Oh, is it just the two of you?" he asked, his smile slipping in a sort of dazed confusion.

"Right now, yes," Blaine answered enthusiastically, "but I'm sure everyone else's be along soon."

"Right." Lockhart frowned, before pointing sharply at Kurt. "You, young man, are in detention tonight."

Kurt resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Lockhart had such a little-kid way of talking that came off as incredibly condescending. "Yes, sir," he replied, with as little emotion as he could manage.

"My office." Lockhart started waggling his pointing finger. "Straight after lessons. You can help me answer my fan mail."

At this, Blaine visibly twitched. "Do you need any more help with that, Professor?" he asked, wide-eyed. "It's just... I have no plans, so maybe I could... help."

What a loser. What kind of fool throws away a free evening to hang out with a self-centred sack of potatoes and a seventeen-year-old Slytherin? He might have throttled Anderson there and then if he didn't think that it might extend his sentence. As it was, Kurt stared determinedly at the wall behind Lockhart's head in an attempt to not hit something.

"Why, Mr...?"

"Anderson."

"Mr Anderson, yes. Well, that is an extremely gracious proposition. Yes, I think we could do with an extra pair of hands, thank you. My office – "

"After lessons, yes."

"Excellent!" Lockhart beamed broadly and Kurt swallowed back a cutting remark before being animatedly ushered into the room.

Sensing that no-one would thank him for stealing their seat, he reluctantly settled himself at his desk on the second row and tried to mentally prepare himself for the coming lesson.

* * *

**A/N: We're getting into the meat of the story! Hooray! Thank you so much for reading all of my stuff; it really means a lot. And, if you haven't so far, maybe check out my other stories? Please feel free to favourite/follow/review as you see fit and, if I don't do another update before then, I hope you all have a great new year!**


	6. Chapter 6

"Are you actually insane?"

Blaine was sitting, for a change, at the Gryffindor table for lunch. Sam, one of Tina's friends, had called him and Mike over so the four of them could hang out. Blaine preferred it to just talking with Mike and Tina: it saved him from being a third wheel. The conversation had quickly become about Blaine's most recent lesson with Gilderoy Lockhart, where it was revealed that Blaine had effectively signed up for detention.

"What?" Blaine asked defensively, pulling at the crust of his sandwich. "I thought that you, for one, Mike, would appreciate the privacy."

"But, dude, fan mail?" Sam shook his head in disbelief. "Like, if I'd been given the detention, I wouldn't be complaining, but to ask for it…"

"I like Professor Lockhart, okay?" Blaine argued exasperatedly. "It sounded like a good opportunity to pick his brain; he's a really good teacher."

"What did you do with him in class today?" Tina asked.

"Well…" Blaine swallowed. "He released a load of Cornish pixies and we had to get them back in their cage."

Mike, Tina and Sam laughed loudly.

"Is that the same lesson he gave his second-years, too?" Mike asked sarcastically.

"Hey, that is not fair," Blaine returned. "He's just making sure Professor Quirrell didn't miss any of the basic stuff."

The group all "hmm"ed unconvincingly. Blaine sighed and directed his attention back to his food.

"But who's in the detention with you?" Sam asked curiously.

Tina nodded. "Yeah, someone else must've got detention first."

Blaine shut his eyes and tried to focus on eating, but the hairs on the back of his neck stood up and he knew that they were all looking at him. He opened his eyes and shrugged. "Well, you, a couple of people," he replied, as nonchalantly as possible.

"Seriously, Blaine, who?" Mike pressed.

Blaine swallowed nervously. "Kurt Hummel," he muttered, before taking an overly large bite of sandwich.

It was clear the three of them hadn't distinguished the name. "Say what?" Sam said.

Blaine shook his head in annoyance. "No-one special," he replied, through his mouthful of food.

The other three exchanged raised eyebrows, but dropped it.

"So, do you guys reckon you'll try out for the Quidditch team this year?" Sam asked in an attempt to change the subject, after a too-long silence.

* * *

Detention. Detention. Kurt had never got a detention before. Though, to be fair, a teacher had never used his bullies' nickname for him. He was a joke of a teacher, anyway.

Regardless, Kurt showed up at Gilderoy Lockhart's office after lessons as requested. How had it only been two days since he'd said goodbye to his dad at King's Cross? It felt like months.

He rapped sharply on the door, letting himself in when Lockhart's voice instructed him to.

"Mr Hummel!" Lockhart said brightly. "You're just in time: Mr Anderson was just asking me about the finer details of the last chapter of my book 'Holidays with Hags'."

Blaine was sitting in one of the two chairs this side of Lockhart's desk, leaning his elbows on the tabletop. He offered Kurt a steely nod, which Kurt grudgingly returned, sitting in the other chair without a word.

"Well, now's as good a time as any to get started." Lockhart pulled out a huge stack of envelopes and what Kurt noticed to be Lockhart's own headshots, smiling and laughing pompously. "If you gentlemen wouldn't mind addressing these envelopes, while I reply to the letters." From the inside of his robes, he pulled out a long list of names and addresses and rested it in between the two of them. Kurt noticed that he and Blaine had both been provided with an inkwell and quill, and he gritted his teeth to stop himself from shuddering.

This was not going to be enjoyable.

As it turned out, it wasn't. Lockhart's inability to shut his mouth for more than five seconds at a time was only topped by his capability to somehow talk while also signing his name on his headshots.

Blaine was not helping, either. Whenever there was even a moment of silence - blissful, peaceful silence - he would leap in with a question about wand-holding techniques or the differences between male and female werewolves or favourite types of shampoo or something else stupid. Although, he'd been getting quieter as time went on and now wasn't saying that much.

It was too hot in the office. It felt stuffy and the warm air was sticking in Kurt's throat. His stomach grumbled quietly in stubborn insistence that it was dinnertime. He sighed and rubbed his eyes, stretching out his hand in an attempt to ease the cramp in it before continuing to write on an envelope to a Mrs M. Weasley.

How long had they been there? Kurt would rather have been scrubbing mashed dragon eyes off the floor for Snape again - listening to Lockhart talk was wearing away his resolve faster than anything he'd ever experienced, and he was consistently overwhelmed with a growing desire to punch his teacher in the face.

He was so caught up in his own thoughts of murdered the Professor, that, at first, he didn't notice that he had changed the topic of conversation to letting them leave.

"…probably a good idea to go grab some dinner, what?"

"What?" Blaine asked, looking up from his envelope.

"What?" Kurt's voice was almost inaudible from lack of use, and his throat was so dry that it set him off coughing.

"Yes, yes, off you go!" Lockhart leapt up out of his chair and pulled open the door with a flourish. The cool air washed over Kurt's face, and he was down the corridor like a shot.

* * *

**A/N: I hope you enjoyed that chapter! Review/favourite/follow as you see fit, please, thank you, very much so, to you. I'm really psyched by my current plan for this story so I hope you guys are too! This isn't beta-ed, so all mistakes are my own. Have a great day!**


	7. Chapter 7

Thank goodness the Hufflepuff common room was near the kitchens.

By the time Professor Lockhart had dismissed them, dinner was already well over, and Blaine was starving. He nipped into the kitchens and was offered a heaped plate of leftover by a very hospitable house-elf. He wolfed it, thanked the elves, and headed back to his dorm.

The second that Blaine walked into room, though, he knew it was a mistake. There was a tie lying in the doorway - right under Blaine's feet. Blaine's next clue was the very un-PG noises coming from behind the curtains of Mike's four poster.

"Ew," Blaine muttered, raising his eyes to the ceiling and backing slowly out the room. "Ew ew ew."

For some reason, the common room didn't hold much appeal for Blaine that evening. There was something about the firelight and the talking that made him feel headachey. He checked the time, and resolved that it wasn't too late to go for a walk, before heading back into the corridor and making for the doors into the grounds. Fresh air would help.

It was once Blaine was out, among the hedges and ever-brightening moonlight, that he turned his thoughts to his detention with Professor Lockhart.

He didn't know what he'd expected. But, in all honesty, Blaine found himself disappointed. Lockhart had not stopped talking for a moment, and it had all been about himself. He understood that the man was an achiever, but he just came across as self-centred. And he was surprised that Lockhart had put absolutely no thought into his fan mail replies whatsoever: a single signed headshot seemed measly in comparison to come of the stuff his fans had sent him.

Was Lockhart really just a pretty face? It was possible - he did have a very pretty face. Blaine just couldn't believe that someone who'd done so much for the benefit of others was now just signing headshots and watching N.E.W.T. students perform simple Disarming spells. In his books, he'd seemed so… genuine. Blaine wondered if he'd maybe had help writing them, because the man in that office did not match the one in the books, and Blaine was starting to notice. He hadn't mentioned any details in his answers to Blaine's questions.

Blaine paused, looking out over the lake. It shimmered peacefully, and helped him calm down. There was no point worrying about this: he just wouldn't sign up for detention again. Problem solved. In the meantime, he supposed that there was nothing wrong with being in Lockhart's good books.

He sighed. Why was he even so worried about this? It wasn't like he hadn't had bad teachers before.

His mind went back to his dorm. Mike and Tina.

Was he jealous? What a ludicrous notion. But, hey, it wasn't like he'd complain about dating someone. Had he somehow convinced himself he liked Professor Lockhart? Now that he was thinking about it properly, that was weird. He could see where Mike had been coming from. Blaine had such a bad habit of falling for book characters.

But Lockhart wasn't a book character. He was a real as Blaine and he was a teacher.

Maybe Blaine was just lonely. He could believe it - especially with all the third wheeling he'd been doing recently. He could try to get to know Sam a bit better, and then when Mike was - otherwise engaged - the two of them could hang out.

What a good idea. Blaine resolved he should take walks more often.

He was about to turn back to the castle when he heard sobbing.

* * *

He'd missed dinner. What a joke. Kurt's stomach rumbled disappointedly and he gritted his teeth angrily. He had half a mind to march back up the Lockhart's office and whack him round the head with the chair Kurt had been sitting on for the past, what, four and a half hours?

Stupidly, though, it still wasn't late enough to feasibly merit going to bed. Kurt wondered what he could do to pass the time. He didn't have any homework as of yet, so didn't feel a visit to the library was needed. The common room was out of the question. He could hardly just wander the halls. In the end, he decided to go outside. He could just breathe for a bit, with no risk of being spotted and harassed by anyone.

The night air was cold on Kurt's skin and he took a deep breath, getting as much of it into his lungs and he could. He needed to get the musty smell of Lockhart's office out of his nose.

Kurt decided to set himself up next to a tree by the side of the lake. It have him a brilliant view, while shielding him from the windows of the castle, and he knew Filch wouldn't lock the doors for at least another hour.

Once he was there, Kurt hugged himself tight and wondered what the giant was doing. Probably having more fun than me, Kurt thought miserably.

Why had he been dealt this crappy card? To find out he was a wizard and that there was a whole world of magic at his fingertips, and then to spend seven years loathing it while his dad's health deteriorated by the day. And all the while, this stupid school was nothing but hindering him.

Kurt felt the tears falling down his cheeks before he realised he was crying. And, once he'd realised that, he couldn't stop. The tears fell faster, hotter, bigger, as his breathing stuttered like a dodgy engine and he rocked slowly back and forth, trying to mentally reassemble his crumbling world.

It wasn't fair.

The sobs made Kurt's shoulders jerk, his chest heave, his heart hammer inside it like it was trying to get out. He must have looked a mess, but Kurt didn't care. He didn't care about anything. He just wanted this all to be over.

"Kurt?"

Kurt's blood froze. Someone was here - someone was here - while he was having some kind of nervous breakdown. He held his breath, waiting with his forehead resting on his knees until his heart had slowed to a somewhat healthy rate, and then looked up.

Blaine was standing over him, the moon outlining his silhouette.

"Oh, god." Kurt shut his eyes again. This wasn't happening. This couldn't be happening.

"Are you…?" Blaine had taken half a step closer to him, something like concern in his voice.

"What does it look like to you?" Kurt snapped harshly.

There was a silence.

"Look…" Blaine rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly, "if this is about the detention…"

Kurt almost laughed. "You think I'm upset over one detention?" Blaine cocked his head, and Kurt continued, "I've got another year at a school that has taught me next to nothing, with zero friends and the only people who talk to me being bullies and cowards with nothing better to do than insult my dad's critical health condition. I'm trying to get a job in one of the most competitive industries out there while teachers and demeaning and abusing me. And there's nothing - I - can - do - about - it!" Without realising, Kurt had got to his feet and started kicking the tree root he'd been leaning against.

To his surprise, Blaine grabbed him by the shoulder. "Hey, hey, don't take it out on the tree."

"Why not?" Kurt responded bitterly, but resigned.

"I'm sorry, Kurt. I didn't realise."

An apology? Was that really an apology? Kurt blinked, clearing his teary vision and looking at Blaine. He was watching him, hard, and his hand was still on Kurt's shoulder.

"Maybe we should go back inside," Blaine suggested eventually.

Kurt was so surprised that he barely even heard himself say, "yeah. Maybe."

* * *

**A/N: Hey guys! Thank you so much for reading; I hope you're enjoying the story. Whether or not you are, please drop me a review (and feel free to favourite/follow) because it really brightens my day. We're just getting in to the main story of the story, if you get my meaning, so it's very exciting! Happy reading!**


	8. Chapter 8

Seeing that new side of Kurt had really shaken Blaine. It was like he'd just gotten smacked in the face with his own ignorance, tarring the whole of Slytherin as elitist, pureblood brats. He'd barely considered for a moment that any of them could feasibly have emotion, and he felt humbled by his realisation.

He supposed there were people who had it worse than him - one of them being Kurt. After all, for Blaine, Hogwarts was a haven, a getaway, a sanctuary. And he'd never thought that there were others who didn't view it the same way.

So, by the time their next Defence Against the Dark Arts class came around - which happened to be the following Wednesday - Blaine had tried to figure out something to say.

"Bit of a storm," he went with, nodding out the window at the lashing rain and huge cloud turning the morning into night.

Kurt's eyes flickered up from his table to Blaine, then past him to the weather outside. "Yeah. I suppose so."

Had Kurt noticed that Blaine had taken the seat next to him instead of his usual one, a few down? Was this taking it too far too quickly and making it weird? All Blaine knew for sure was that, if there was one thing Kurt needed, it was a friend. And he'd always been informed how good a friend he was.

"So, your dad's a Muggle?" This was a bit more hit and miss, but Blaine was floundering under Kurt's steely gaze.

Kurt frowned, obviously preparing to bristle defensively. "What about him?"

"Nothing, I…" Blaine swallowed. "What does he do?"

"Runs a garage." There was a pause, before Kurt opened his mouth again. "A garage is - "

"I know what a garage is," Blaine smiled quickly. "My parents are Muggles, too."

"Oh."

Another lead balloon of a conversation clattered onto the desk between them.

This was ridiculous. Kurt evidently didn't want to talk.

Lockhart swept to the front of the classroom, beaming at his class. "Morning, all, and welcome to another fun-filled lesson!"

As he continued talking, though, Blaine registered that Lockhart was, in no way whatsoever, holding his attention. He blinked and tried to listen, but got distracted by a rattle of thunder, a rustle of paper, a roll of the eyes, and found himself looking at Kurt instead, in the corner of his vision. Kurt was doodling on a spare bit of parchment, glancing up only to glare at Lockhart briefly. The third time he did so, his eyes caught Blaine's and he frowned. Blaine quickly shook himself and looked back at Lockhart.

What on earth was he doing? He couldn't just stare at Kurt: he wanted to be friendly, but that was borderline creepy.

"…so why don't you get into your pairs and practise your Patronus charms," Lockhart finished. "Give each other pointers, and remember: happy thoughts! I talk all about my Patronus in my autobiography…"

The class started to move, and Blaine stood up. "Patronuses, then," he said brightly.

Kurt nodded starkly and got up. "Detention put you off Lockhart, then?"

Blaine started. "I suppose you could say that," he admitted awkwardly.

"Good. I'm glad someone else thinks he's a moron." Kurt gave a wry smile, and nodded. "Want to go first?"

Blaine shrugged and raised his wand. He'd mastered the Patronus the previous year with Professor Quirrell, but suddenly felt self-conscious he'd screw it up in front of Kurt, having not done any practice over the summer.

"Expecto patronum," he said clearly, tightening his grip on his wand and flexing his wrist a little. Focus, Blaine. He thought of his first day at Hogwarts: meeting Mike, seeing all the magic… and to his relief, a bright white light blossomed out the end of his wand. And, somewhere within the cloud, he saw the tiny flap of wings, both dispersing and creating more of the silvery Patronus.

After a moment, he let his arm drop, the wings flapping once more before disappearing into nothing.

Blaine took a breath and glanced at Kurt expectantly.

Kurt nodded approvingly. "It's really good." He paused, thinking. "What's your Patronus? Some kind of bird?"

"A blackbird." Blaine shook his head. "Well, I've never properly seen it, but… I hope it's a blackbird. It looks like one."

"Why a blackbird?"

Blaine thought for a moment. "I'm not sure. I just have this feeling." He shook himself, and smiled. "Thanks." He gestured towards Kurt. "Your turn."

Kurt swallowed, and raised his wand. He closed his eyes and frowned, concentrating. "Expecto patronum."

Nothing happened.

Kurt opened an eye to look at his wand, and sighed. "Damn it." He glanced at Blaine before shutting his eyes and trying again. "Expecto patronum."

Not a single spark came out of Kurt's wand. He visibly slumped, defeated.

"Can you not…?" Blaine began, but stopped when he saw the devastated look on Kurt's face.

"No, I can't," Kurt rubbed his forehead and frowned. "I've never been able to."

Blaine swallowed, opening his mouth to speak. "Well, it's a really difficult spell to get the - "

"Leave it, Blaine," Kurt sighed. "It's not going to help."

"Well, what do you think about?" Blaine asked. "What's your happy thought?"

Kurt looked surprised, as if nobody had ever asked him that before. "My mum," he replied eventually.

"She's a witch, right?"

"Yeah," Kurt said, before adding, "she was."

Kurt's mother was dead. How had Blaine not known that? Every time he spoke to Kurt, he ended up feeling awful for him. Kurt had no friends - and was picked on and despised by most of the school - and he'd mentioned his dad was ill and his mother was dead.

"Kurt…" Blaine had no idea what to say. "I'm sorry."

"It's okay," Kurt said, with a face that said it was very much not okay.

They spent the rest of the lesson - which, to be fair, was mostly Lockhart talking - in uncomfortable silence.

* * *

Kurt, once again, sat on his own at lunch.

Defence Against the Dark Arts had been a disaster. His complete uselessness at the Patronus charm, combined with his miserable like story, had freaked blaine out and completely ruled out the possibility of them becoming friends. Kurt had just been warming to the idea of having a friend. Not the sit-with-you-to-eat kind or the paint-our-nail-and-talk-about-boys kind, but maybe just someone to talk to occasionally to put off an inevitable spiral into insanity.

He tried to forget about it. Six years with no friends, he could manage one more.

But it killed him to think about it.

He tried not to, picking up his glass and swirling the remaining juice round in it.

And that was when Blaine Anderson sat down opposite him.

"Hey," he smiled warmly. As if they were friends.

Kurt was almost too shocked to speak. "Hi," he replied.

Blaine frowned a little. "Listen, I'm sorry about earlier," he began. "It was really insensitive of me." He made to stand up. "I can go, if you want."

"No, it's alright." Because, surprisingly enough, it was. "Please, stay." He indicated at the seat that Blaine sat back down in.

"I'm sorry about before that, too," Blaine continued. "I guess it never registered that not all Slytherins are jerks. It sucks we weren't already…" He paused. "It sucks we didn't know each other better."

Weren't already… what? Friends?

"Yeah, it does," Kurt agreed.

"You know, you can feel free to come sit at the Hufflepuff table with me whenever," Blaine went on. "I'm usually sitting with Mike, but I think you two'd get on. I mean, if you ever don't' want to sit… here…"

"Sit… here, by myself?"

"Yeah, pretty much."

Kurt was even more surprised by that offer. "Thanks. I might do that." He thought for a moment and frowned. "You know, though, that I don't need anyone to throw my a pity party."

"Oh, no, I wasn't - " Blaine leant forward, pressing his hands flat on the table. "Kurt, sure I feel bad for you. But you seem like a nice guy and I thought you might want a friend."

"How selfless of you, sacrificing yourself, since I clearly can't look after myself," Kurt snapped before he'd thought it through. The notion of someone being nice had thrown him off guard and he'd come out with that line and now he couldn't take it back.

Blaine looked hurt. "Fine. Forget I said anything," he retorted, before moving back to the Hufflepuff table.

Kurt cursed himself under his breath. This was why he didn't have friends.

The idea to go over and apologise gripped him, but his pride stamped it out.

He'd really messed up..

* * *

**A/N: So, here we are, first update since our Klaine finally became Anderhummels! Hopefully once the series finishes, we'll all have fanfiction to see us through. I hope you enjoyed that chapter; the next one is in the works. This isn't beta-ed so all mistakes are my own. Please favourite/follow/review as you see fit because that always makes my day! Happy reading!**


	9. Chapter 9

Blaine and Kurt didn't speak for a month. As far as Blaine saw it, he'd tried to reach out and Kurt could crawl back to say sorry whenever he wanted. Until then, though, they spent their lessons together practising spells in silence and not making eye contact.

It made Blaine feel terrible. Every day, the bags under Kurt's eyes got darker and his eyes got redder, but he would cough and look away if ever Blaine opened his mouth to speak until he'd eventually stopped trying. And Kurt had never again tried to make a Patronus.

On the morning of Halloween, Blaine and Mike were sitting at the Hufflepuff table, talking over their breakfast, when a shadow over Blaine's bowl made him look up.

Kurt was standing awkwardly behind him, his eyes flitting around the room, not resting on anything for more than a few moments.

"Can I help you, Kurt?" Blaine asked him uncertainly.

With a glance at Mike, then at Blaine, then at the floor, Kurt spoke. "I'm sorry. For what I said. And for not saying sorry sooner. And for being a jerk." He looked at Blaine anxiously.

Before he knew it, Blaine was smiling. "It's alright." Kurt's face brightened. "Thank you." He gestured at the seat next to him. "You wanna sit down? I'm sure the Slytherin table can miss you for one meal."

Kurt beamed at the offer: a proper, radiant beam. Blaine had never seen someone look so genuinely pleased. "Yeah." He slid into the seat next to Blaine.

"Mike, this is - "

"Kurt Hummel." Mike grinned, nodding. "Mike Chang. Blaine talks about you all the time."

"He does?"

"I don't, really."

"He does. He has not shut up about you. It's like you two are dating."

Blaine felt himself go red. "I do not," he insisted. Did he? He didn't think he did. Was Mike messing with him?

He was both relieved and confused when he looked at Kurt to see that he looked almost as embarrassed as Blaine.

"Well, that's new to me," Kurt said matter-of-factly, picking up some toast.

"Shut up, Mike." Blaine shook his head. "You talk about Tina practically twenty-four-seven."

Mike "hmm"ed cryptically and drank some pumpkin juice. "Whatever you say. So, Kurt, what do you think of Professor Lockhart? Blaine was head over heels until that night he had detention with you."

"Well, the less said about Lockhart the better," Kurt said. "I think that night was an eye-opener for both of us."

Blaine looked at Kurt, catching his eye before Kurt looked quickly away.

"Mike!"

"Hey, Tina!" Mike got up to leave. "I'll see you two later."

After bidding Mike goodbye, Blaine turned to Kurt. "What did you mean, 'eye-opener'?"

Kurt fiddled with his toast, ripping the crust off. "Well, it was the night we sort of became friends, wasn't it?"

Blaine blinked. "Yeah. I suppose so."

Kurt caught his gaze. "Thanks, Blaine," he said, before getting up and leaving.

* * *

In an effort to not seem needy, Kurt avoided Blaine for the rest of the day: it being Saturday, that was relatively easy to achieve. He was still buzzing from their conversation as the evening drew in. They were friends. He could go and sit with Blaine (and Mike) whenever he liked; it was like a dream come true.

As it grew closer to seven o'clock and the Halloween feast, Kurt started heading to the Great Hall, wondering if he dared to scour the Hufflepuff table for some company.

Fortunately, though, he spied Blaine in the Entrance Hall, chatting with Mike and a boy and a girl he didn't recognise.

Wondering how rude it was to interrupt, Kurt loitered near a suit of armour until there appeared to be a lull in the conversation, before stepping awkwardly up behind Blaine and tapping him gently on the shoulder.

"Kurt!" Blaine grinned, when he'd turned around. "I hoped we'd catch you: we reckon we're gonna sit with the Gryffindors tonight." He gestured at the other two members of their party - a pretty Asian girl and a tall blond guy. "Tina, Sam, this is Kurt. So, you care to join?"

Kurt paused. Sit with the Gryffindors? Before today, he'd've likened that to sitting in a full bathtub surrounded by toasters. But there was something about Blaine's hopeful expression that made him immediately reply, "sure."

So Kurt, Blaine, Mike, Tina and Sam sat themselves down at the end of the Gryffindor table, ready for the much-anticipated Halloween feast.

The Hall looked incredible. For the first time, Kurt wasn't so miserable that he didn't notice the decorations, and he took in the candles, the pumpkins, the skeletons, wide-eyed and almost laughing. Here he finally was, sitting with a group of friends on Halloween, chatting before the feast. For the first time, Kurt was glad that he was at Hogwarts.

Blaine caught his eye and raised his eyebrows. "So?" he asked. "Glad you're not sat with the Slytherins?"

Kurt didn't even glance over at the table. "Ecstatic," he beamed in return. "I swear, the Hall looks way better from the Gryffindor table."

Blaine laughed, and it was short, sweet, musical. "The Hufflepuff table's got a pretty good view, too," he said. "But I suppose it's more about who you're sitting with."

The noise in the Hall normally seemed endless and overwhelming, but Blaine's voice made it dissipate and Kurt was so glad to have someone to talk to after so long being on his own. He smiled again. "I suppose it is," he agreed.

The feast was one of the best experiences of Kurt's life. As it turned out, he got on remarkably well with all of Blaine's friends, and Sam set right anyone who behaved rudely towards Kurt, which was incredibly kind of him.

It was Blaine that Kurt talked to the most, though. He asked about Kurt's dad's health, and offered to lend him his canary to send him letters ("Pav can only carry light stuff, but it's worth it to hear him sing"), and, in return, Kurt learned that Blaine's brother Cooper was the only person Blaine ever received replies to his letters from ("which, you know, is fine").

"So, what are we thinking, our common room after this, guys?" Mike asked over dessert.

There were general hums of agreement from Blaine and Tina, but Sam said, "there's always loads of people in your common room - can't we go to ours?"

Kurt caught Mike glancing straight at him, and guessed that they were both wondering how Kurt would be received in the Gryffindor common room.

"What do you think, Kurt?" Blaine asked, eyes wide. "Where do you wanna go?"

Kurt shrugged. "I don't mind," he replied honestly. "I'm happy with either." Because, whatever happens, it'll be better than the Slytherin common room.

The five of them were some of the first out of the Great Hall after the feast, and clambered up the stairs to the seventh floor. The route felt alien to Kurt, but he enjoyed the journey - and didn't object to Blaine's hand skimming his own when he alerted Kurt they were turning a corner.

When they got to the second floor, though, Tina paused as they reached a new corridor, bringing not only their group but all the students behind them to a standstill.

"What is it?" Mike asked.

"The floor's wet," Tina responded. "Look."

True to Tina's word, water was steadily pooling out from around the far corner. The people behind them had noticed too, and as one they all surged forward to see what had happened.

"If it's Peeves again," Kurt groaned. "I swear, if he weren't a ghost - "

"You'd kill him?" Blaine suggested, raising his eyebrows and smiling.

The smile dropped, though, when they turned the corner.

Gasps erupted from behind Kurt as he saw the famous Harry Potter and his two friends turn sharply and look in horror at their group, but it was only after Kurt had seen the Petrified Mrs Norris and the writing on the wall behind them that his mouth opened in shock.

THE CHAMBER OF SECRETS HAS BEEN OPENED.  
ENEMIES OF THE HEIR, BEWARE.

"Oh my god," Blaine muttered. He turned to Kurt. "We're not going to Gryffindor common room," he said matter-of-factly. "Come on." And, without another word, he had grabbed Kurt by the wrist and was dragging him through the crowd of people, away from the naïve threats coming from Draco Malfoy, and the cries of Filch that told Kurt he'd seen what had become of his cat.

Blaine led Kurt back down the stairs to the Hufflepuff common room, briskly letting them in and guiding Kurt to the boys' dorm. Kurt heard a few "hey, Blaine"s but was still too surprised to take anything more in.

Once they got into the dorm, Blaine turned to Kurt. "Sorry. I guessed the Gryffindors wouldn't be too thrilled having a Slytherin in their common room after that. No offence."

"None taken," Kurt responded numbly, blinking. "What did it mean?" he asked. "The writing, and Mrs Norris…?"

Blaine shrugged. "It's this whole legend about Salazar Slytherin building a huge chamber under the castle," he explained. "His heir can open it, apparently, and there's this monster inside."

"Monster?" Kurt asked, but Blaine only shook his head and shrugged again.

"What was Harry Potter doing there, though?" Blaine asked thoughtfully.

"You think he's the Heir of Sytherin?" Kurt asked incredulously.

"Well, I didn't say that - " Blaine said hastily, "but, I mean, he's Harry Potter… who knows?"

"I'm not sure a twelve-year-old can Petrify a cat," Kurt replied, thinking back to Mrs Norris, stiff as a board. "It's lucky Professor Sprout has her Mandrake crop, really."

"Yeah, it is." Blaine still looked uneasy, though, and Kurt raised his eyebrows questioningly. "Well," Blaine began, "it's just… it's meant to be that the Heir of Slytherin goes after Muggleborns."

"What, you think Mrs Norris was Muggleborn? Blaine, she's just a cat," Kurt said.

"Kurt…" Blaine sat down on his bed. "I'm Muggleborn."

"So?"

"So, what if the legend's true? What if the Heir of Slytherin's at Hogwarts, the monster's got out, and… it's gonna come after me?"

"Blaine." Kurt sat down next to his friend. "You don't know that's going to happen."

"But what if it does?" Blaine finally met Kurt's eye, and he looked scared. "What if I'm not safe here anymore?" He swallowed, and took a breath. "What if no-one's really safe here anymore?"

There was a spike in noise from outside, and Kurt guessed that the Hufflepuffs who had seen what happened had come back to the common room. "So many people…" Blaine murmured, his eyes wide and teary. He frowned, like he was trying not to cry, and instinctively Kurt wrapped his arms round Blaine's shoulders, taking the both of them by not unpleasant surprise.

Blaine wound his arms round Kurt's waist and buried his face in Kurt's shoulder, gasping out half-sobs. Kurt suspected that Blaine was overly tired and was getting overly emotional as a result, but had no objection to them sitting quietly like this. He couldn't remember the last time he'd hugged someone.

By the time Blaine started yawning, though, he knew he'd outstayed his welcome - at last, with the other people in Blaine's dorm who'd refused to come in until he left. He bade Blaine goodnight, and headed back to the Slytherin common room.

* * *

**A/N: Hope you're enjoying the story! The next chapter is already written, so I'm uploading it straight after this one. Please favourite/follow/review as you deem appropriate; it really means a lot to me. Happy reading!**


	10. Chapter 10

By the time Blaine woke up on Sunday morning, he was calmer, collected. And he certainly felt embarrassed about practically sobbing himself to sleep in Kurt's arms last night. It had probably been the combination of too much food and stress - and, by any account, he was still scared about what happened to Mrs Norris - but he felt foolish and wondered whether he should go and find Kurt to apologise.

Surprisingly, it was still early, and Blaine made his way down to a half-empty common room. Unsurprisingly, the only thing anyone was talking about was the writing the wall last night.

"Hey, Blaine, didn't you have a Slytherin in your dorm last night?" Ernie Macmillan asked loudly, abruptly creating a huge silence as everyone in the room stared at Blaine.

He felt himself go red. "Yeah," he responded lamely.

There were gasps from around the room; although, Blaine wasn't sure how many were from people thinking he was harbouring some kind of fugitive and how many were from people thinking he'd slept with someone.

"It was just Kurt," he tried to explain, but it only made matters worse.

"Kurt Hummel?"

"As in, Half-Blood Hummel?"

"Hey - look, don't call him that…"

"The Slytherin Prefect?"

"What on earth were you doing with him?"

"Blaine, are you dating Half-Blood Hummel?"

"I said, don't call him that - "

"This is fraternising with the enemy, Blaine!"

"But what if he'd the Heir of Slytherin?"

"Oh, come on, you guys, don't be ridiculous - "

"But Blaine - "

It was at this moment that the Fat Friar made an appearance, floating in through the doorway. "Sorry to disturb, folks," he said with an awkward but good-natured smile. "There's a young man waiting in the corridor outside. Looks awfully distressed. Was looked for you." He nodded at Blaine, and then disappeared through the floor without another word.

Blaine felt the eyes of everyone in the room on him as he left, but forgot all about it when a huge force slammed him against the barrels in the corridor the moment he got into it. He almost cried out in surprise, but realised it was, in fact, Kurt. He'd flung himself against Blaine and was now clutching at his and making sniffly noises.

"Kurt, are you okay?" Blaine asked. They'd really taken the steps of their friendship quickly - Blaine barely hugged Mike and they'd been best friends for six years.

"Sorry," Kurt said, seeming to come to his senses and taking a step backwards. "Sorry."

"It's… fine." Blaine paused when he noticed Kurt's eyes: dark and red. He couldn't've got much sleep last night. "Are you okay?" he repeated.

Kurt shook his head in a daze. "No," he answered distractedly. "Blaine - I had this dream."

"Right." Kurt had had a nightmare. Blaine was wondering whether to tell himi that he was a big boy now, when -

"I sometimes have these… dreams. Visions, I guess. Like a Seer."

"O…kay."

"Blaine, you have to believe me. And trust me on this."

"I do." Because, oddly enough, he did.

"I saw the monster."

"The monster?"

"The Chamber of Secrets monster."

"Oh."

"And it… and it…" Kurt swallowed and blinked, but tears were already streaming down his face. He wiped his cheek with the back of his hand, but it didn't help.

"Kurt - "

"You know, Blaine, you're my first ever friend?" Kurt said sincerely, meeting Blaine's eye. "I've never…"

In that moment, Blaine disregarded every thought in his brain and stepped forward, slipping his arms tightly round Kurt again. Kurt was shaking, his shoulders heaving.

After a few moments, Blaine eased Kurt through into the common room. "Come on, Kurt," he murmured soothingly, guiding him back up to Blaine's dorm, and sitting him down on Blaine's bed. Blaine shut up the other students with stern glares, though Kurt's sorry state did most of the work.

Once Kurt was sat down, he calmed down a bit.

"So, what was this dream?" Blaine asked, but Kurt shook his head.

"Sorry, Blaine, it's probably best you don't know." He shook his head again. "I shouldn't've come down, but… I panicked. You're… you're important to me." He yawned, and sighed.

"How long were you waiting out there, Kurt?" Blaine asked quietly.

"I'm not sure," Kurt shrugged. "I fell asleep and lost track."

Blaine thought of the boys who shared Kurt's dorm. "Do you wanna sleep here?" He looked like he needed it.

Kurt looked surprised. "Are you sure?"

"Absolutely. I mean, I don't need my bed right now, and we've got no lessons…"

"Thanks." Kurt rolled over onto his side, and was out like a light.

* * *

After that morning, Kurt and Blaine became very close very quickly. As the nights drew in and the air developed the tell-tale chill of oncoming snow, there wasn't a day they didn't speak. Kurt still hadn't told Blaine about his dream, but, to his relief, Blaine seemed to have forgotten about it.

The Chamber of Secrets, though, was another matter.

A Gryffindor student, a first-year called Colin, had been Petrified, shattering any last illusions that this was all some long, drawn-out joke. He was laid on a bed in the hospital wing with huge curtains around it.

Prefects had been given extra patrols and duties, so Kurt spent a huge number of his evenings standing in empty corridors waiting to see the Chamber of Secrets monster turn the corner. All in all, he wasn't confident that it was a hugely effective system, but he wasn't going to argue with Snape. Sometimes, Blaine managed to accidentally-on-purpose walk down Kurt's corridor and would stay with him until he was finished, which was, on occasion, very late into the night.

On the other hand, Kurt was very scared for Blaine's safety as a Muggleborn. He could not shake the constant knot in his stomach that worried about it, despite the butterflies that developed the longer they talked together.

Because Kurt Hummel had a crush. It was an odd and alien feeling that he both detested and adored. But, given the danger that was slithering round the castle, Kurt didn't want to complicate his and Blaine's relationship.

The two of them had decided to stay at Hogwarts over the Christmas holidays - Kurt, because he was a Prefect and had not choice, and Blaine, because he would rather stay with Kurt than his parents. But, when a Hufflepuff called Justin got Petrified, along with the Gryffindor house ghost, Kurt became more insistent that Blaine go home.

"Kurt, I can look after myself. It's hardly two weeks of difference."

"It's nearly three weeks, and one second could make all the difference!"

"But what about you?"

"I'm not Muggleborn, I'll be fine."

"You don't know that!"

"All I know if that Muggleborns are dropping round here like flies."

"Two is not 'like flies'. And they're not dying."

"They might as well be! Are you trying to get yourself killed?"

"Of course not! But I'm staying, Kurt. End of discussion."

Every other boy in Blaine's dorm had decided to go home - bar the Hufflepuff Prefect, whose name Kurt didn't know. Mike had offered Kurt his bed while he was away ("because I'd hate sharing a room with Sebastian, too"), and Kurt was familiar enough with the Hufflepuff dorms by the holidays that he could probably pass for a member of the house if he tried.

So, on the first day of the holidays, he and Blaine headed down to the Slytherin dorms to pick up his stuff. Kurt felt ridiculous muttering "Pure-blood" to get the door to open; he minded the stares he got from the other Slytherins at Blaine's appearance much less in comparison.

"What the hell are you doing, Half-Blood?"

"Get that Mudblood out of here right now, Hummel!"

"You don't belong here, Anderson."

"We're leaving in just a minute, Sebastian," Blaine responded. "Just give us a moment."

Kurt led the way up to the dorms and grabbed his trunk. He'd practically been living out of it all term, so it still had all his things in it.

By the time they were leaving through the common room, the Slytherins had moved on to discussing a drinking game where they took a shot of Firewhiskey whenever Draco Malfoy in the second year talked about Harry Potter. Kurt and Blaine left in silence.

"This is quiet honestly the best thing I've ever done," Kurt said breathlessly, dumping his trunk on Mike's bed and beaming.

"Really?" Blaine asked.

"Absolutely. If there weren't a giant snake Petrifying people left, right and centre, then it'd be - "

"What?" Blaine said, eyes wide.

"What?"

"A giant snake? How do you know that?"

Kurt sighed. "Do you remember that dream I had on Halloween?"

"Not really. You said you're, like, a Seer?"

"Yeah, sort of, and not a very good one. But I'm having these dreams about the monster, and… well, I think it's a giant snake. But, I'm not sure, so I haven't told anyone. 'I saw it in a dream' sounds a bit of a rubbish explanation."

"Okay." Blaine shrugged. "I'll avoid any giant snakes then."

Kurt half-smiled. He was still feeling uneasy about Blaine staying at Hogwarts, but hated arguing about it.

"Kurt." Blaine stepped over to Kurt and cupped his cheek, bringing Kurt's eyes up to meet his own. "Stop worrying about me, alright? I'm fine."

Kurt was too surprised by the fact that Blaine's hand was touching his face to respond to what Blaine had said. "You caught me by surprise, there," he managed quietly.

Blaine seemed to have realised what he was doing. "Yeah, I'm surprising myself, too," he murmured in reply, before leaning in and pressing his lips to Kurt's.

Kurt thought he might explode. Blaine was kissing him. He was kissing Blaine. It was more magical than anything he'd ever experienced, Blaine's body pressed up against his own, his arm now winding round Kurt's neck as he felt Kurt reciprocate. Kurt brought his hand up to Blaine jaw as the kiss deepened, feeling the silky warmth of Blaine's mouth pressing harder against his own as they opened. Kurt couldn't hold back the surprised gasp in the back of his throat anymore but Blaine sighed as their lips met again and they both clutched tighter at one another, Blaine's arm now around Kurt's waist, Kurt's hand pressed into the gap between Blaine's shoulder blades.

It was like they'd both realised, at the same moment, how much each needed the other.

When they finally broke off the kiss, Blaine laughed. "But, y'know, nothing wrong with surprises," he said quietly.

Kurt noticed how swollen Blaine's lips were and wondering if his were the same. "No, nothing at all," he agreed, and beamed again. "Maybe moving in here for the holidays is the second best thing I've ever done."

* * *

**A/N: Finally, we have our Klaine! But there's loads left in the story - after all, it's not even Christmas yet. Please let me know what you thought by favouriting/following/reviewing as you see fit, and I hope to be posting the next chapter fairly soon (though I have exams starting next month). Happy reading!**


	11. Chapter 11

Blaine was starting to wish that the Christmas holidays would never end. Since he'd taken the plunge and finally acted to his feelings for Kurt, everything seemed to be going right. He'd been on cloud nine for the past week, and, now, the Thursday before Christmas, he and Kurt were on their very first official date. They walked down the snowy street to Hogsmeade, hand in hand, and Blaine didn't even try to stop himself grinning.

"I love snow," he commented brightly, as he noticed more falling.

"Really?" Kurt asked sceptically. "It plays havoc with my skin."

Blaine laughed and pulled Kurt closer, briefly leaning his head on his shoulder before continuing to walk as normal. "I guess you'll want to go somewhere warm, then?"

"If the Three Broomsticks worked for you, then it works for me," Kurt responded.

"Sounds good."

After spending a whole week together, the two of them were starting to struggle with thinking of conversation topics, but Blaine adored the comfortable silences that he got to share with Kurt and the two of them didn't speak again until they were sat near the window of the Three Broomsticks with a Butterbeer each.

"What do you wanna be when you leave school?" Kurt asked.

Blaine took his time taking a sip of his drink before shaking his head and shrugging. "I honestly don't know. Happy, I guess."

"Lame," Kurt muttered good-naturedly.

Blaine laughed. "Why, what do you want to be?"

Kurt put down his drink and used both his hands to gesticulate wildly. "I wanna be a Healer at St. Mungo's, you know, saving people's lives, curing them, just… helping." He paused. "It was my mum's job."

"Well, I think it's brilliant." Blaine grinned. "You're the most headstrong person I know; I'll eat my canary if you don't get it."

"No, Pavarotti," Kurt said in mock horror.

Blaine smiled. "So, how does Defence Against the Dark Arts come into that?"

Kurt shrugged. "It doesn't, I guess. But I think it's a good thing to have, and it can be a lot of fun."

"If you don't have Gilderoy Lockhart," Blaine added, and Kurt nodded in exasperated agreement.

"If you don't have Gilderoy Lockhart," he echoed. "But how were we to know that last year?" He took a sip of his drink. "I still can't believe you had a crush on that numbskull," he added, bitterness creeping into his good-natured tone.

Blaine shook his head. "Honestly? Me neither." He paused. "Wait - is that jealousy I detect?"

Kurt took a larger sip of his drink and said nothing.

"It is!" Blaine laughed. "Look, Kurt - I don't - I mean, it didn't - "

"I know." Kurt met Blaine's gaze. "I do. It's fine."

Blaine sighed, and took Kurt's hand across the table. "I'm crazy about you."

Kurt seemed to pause. He squeezed Blaine's hand lightly, and said, "it's barely been a week."

"Maybe officially," Blaine conceded. "But this really all started around Halloween, didn't it?"

Kurt frowned. "Are you saying we should thank the Heir of Slytherin for getting us together?"

"I actually meant the Halloween feast," Blaine explained. "It was the first time we'd properly hung out."

"I suppose it was." Kurt smiled. "You know, honestly, from then to now has been more enjoyable than all of the rest of my time at Hogwarts put together."

Blaine considered for a moment. "I suppose, when you're spending all your time, with Sebastian, the future can't look very bright."

Kurt nodded, meeting Blaine's eye. "Who do you think the Heir is?" he asked.

"You're still on that? Wait - you think it's Sebastian?" The idea seemed so far-fetched… and yet…

"Think about it - he'd have no problem killing all the Mud - Muggleborns in school," Kurt hypothesised, catching himself just in time. "And he's the one all the Slytherin boys look up to - god knows why people think that it's me."

"A lot of people are thinking it's Harry Potter," Blaine suggested.

"Blaine - just because it's the popular opinion doesn't make it right - I've said it before and I'll say it again: he is twelve. He still has baby fat. No twelve-year-old is plotting murder, and especially not one who's not in Slytherin." He sighed.

"Plus, he is friends with a Muggleborn," Blaine shrugged.

"Is he?"

"Yeah. I think her name's Hermione."

"How do you know?"

"I sort of… checked. When all this started going down, I looked up all the Muggleborns in school." Because Blaine was scared. Regardless of what he told Kurt, he was scared. Just maybe more for the other Muggleborns than himself.

"That was a smart move." Kurt nodded. "I don't understand why we aren't better protecting the Muggleborns; they're clearly the targets here."

"I guess they want to disrupt the school as little as possible," Blaine suggested. "But I'm with you: it is stupid."

Kurt drank more Butterbeer smugly. "Why do we always end up talking about this?"

"Because you always bring it up! And it's hardly like anything else remotely exciting is going on in either of our lives." Blaine finished his own drink and shrugged.

"It really bothers me that people aren't being sent home, though. Surely a place without a giant evil snake is better than a place with, regardless of education factor."

"Kurt - " Kurt's eyes were big and piercing and made Blaine's heart swell. He put both his hands on Kurt's free one. "This is our first official date. I know this stuff is scary, but can we please enjoy this?"

Kurt put down his drink and rested his hand on Blaine's. "Yes. Sorry."

Blaine smiled. "And since we haven't known each other all this time, I think we have some catching up to do."

* * *

Once Kurt had finally managed to loosen up, and enjoy himself, he had a lot of fun with Blaine. They wandered round Hogsmeade hand in hand, windowshopping and popping into anywhere that caught their eye. It was early evening by the time they got back to Hogwarts, and they headed to their dorm to shed their outer layers that had been soaked by snow.

"We should go on dates more often," Kurt said brightly when they got inside.

"Agreed," Blaine agreed. "But, to be fair, we should have started going on them at least a year ago." He crouched down to take off his shoes.

"Hey," Kurt said, kneeling next to him.

"What?" Blaine looked up and saw that Kurt's face was inches from his own. He smiled, surprised.

Kurt kissed him - just a peck, but on the lips, which seemed to set his on fire. Everything was still new and exciting and make Kurt want to backflip with joy, and he wanted to grab every tiny opportunity of affection that he could. He stood up, beaming, and went and put his school robes on for dinner, kicking off his wet shoes next to his bed.

"Hey," he heard Blaine say, and turned to see Blaine's face just inches from his own.

Kurt laughed, and smiled into the kiss Blaine initiated, snaking an arm round Blaine's back. He didn't know why people compared kissing to fireworks. It was all push and pull and breath and body and sensations tingling up his spine to reach the back of his eyelids. It was arms and heartbeats and legs intermingling until Kurt was barely conscious of his own existence anymore. It was Blaine's hair between his fingers, Blaine's quiet hum and he breathed through his nose, Blaine's eyelashes meeting his. It was the warm heat in Kurt's stomach and the lightness in his head and the swelling of his heart. There was no way to describe it, but 'fireworks' didn't even come close.

Blaine's arms were around his waist. His hands were carding through Blaine's hair. Kurt's left shoulder hit his pillow as the two of them toppled over, but they were both completely oblivious to it. Kurt could do this forever. He met Blaine's tongue with his and inhaled sharply. Blaine's hands came up to Kurt's face, one resting lightly on his neck while Kurt hummed his approval. He absently noted Blaine's fingers fiddling with his tie, blindly unfastening it and casting it aside. Kurt tugged ineffectually at Blaine's tie, pulling Blaine down on top of him until Blaine shed his own tie as well.

Finally, Kurt cupped Blaine's chin and broke the kiss, Blaine resting his forehead on Kurt's. "We should probably head to dinner," Kurt said breathlessly, eyes half-closed and hands groping blindly for his tie.

Blaine found his own tie without breaking eye contact with Kurt, and the two of them swiftly put on their shoes and headed out the room hand in hand.

There were very few people in the Great Hall for dinner, as there had been every day that holiday, with the Hufflepuff table being the barest of all. Kurt suspected that it was perhaps related to the high number of Muggleborns also in the house. They spied the Hufflepuff Prefect, though - whose name, Kurt had learned, was Finn - sitting with a Gryffindor boy with a mohawk halfway down the Hufflepuff table, and they made a beeline to join them. Blaine and Finn got on quite well, even if Kurt had barely spoken to him.

"Hey," Blaine said cheerily, seating himself opposite Finn. "How's your day been?"

Finn looked up and smiled. "Oh, hi," he replied. There was a pause as he caught his Gryffindor companion's eye. "Yeah, my day's been… pretty good, Blaine. Yours?"

"Yeah, really great." Blaine smiled charmingly at Finn's friend. "Hi, my name's Blaine."

"Puck," the Gryffindor responded, nodding.

"This is Kurt," Blaine continued, while Kurt gave a small wave.

"Your boyfriend?" Puck asked. It caught Kurt by surprise; it was an odd assumption to make. Maybe Finn had been talking about him.

"Um, well, we, uh…" Blaine caught Kurt's eye and went with, "yes."

"Good, because otherwise it would have been super weird that you're wearing each other's ties," Puck said flippantly.

Kurt's hands leapt up to his neck, pulling at the tie so he could see it. Sure enough, the Hufflepuff colours winked cheekily up at him, while he noticed his own green and silver tie clutched in Blaine's hands. He felt his cheeks colouring red, and sheepishly pulled off the tie, sliding it across the table to Blaine and putting on his own.

Puck just smirked, while Finn busied himself with eating. "It's alright," the Gryffindor shrugged. "No judgement from me."

Kurt exhaled slowly, trying to relieve the sheepish sense of shame sat in his stomach with the thought that Blaine was officially now his boyfriend.

* * *

**A/N: Hi, people, so I know it's been an embarrassingly long time since my last update and even longer on my other fic, but I'm still here and I'm still writing and I still have every intention of finishing this story, so please bear with me here. Please favourite/follow if you like this story, and review if you have any feedback! Happy reading :) xx**


	12. Chapter 12

Christmas morning dawned, cold and white. Blaine was woken by the harsh, bright sunlight bursting into the dorm from behind the curtains on his bed, and sat up lazily, scratching at the back of his head through his curly hair. It took him a few moments to acknowledge that it actually was Christmas, and a few more after that to summon the energy to get up. He finally pulled back the curtains on his bed, and heard Kurt starting to wake up behind the curtains on his. Blaine caught himself smiling giddily, once again, when he reminded himself that Kurt was his boyfriend. He crossed his legs and waited patiently for Kurt to get up.

"Morning," he murmured when Kurt had pulled back his curtain, careful not to wake Finn (who was still snoring happily across the room).

"Merry Christmas," Kurt smiled, blinking himself awake. "How long have you been up?"

"Not long," Blaine shrugged, "five minutes max." He grinned again, as he heard a tap on the window. "Yes!" he exclaimed brightly, leaping over to the side of the room and letting in a rather snowy yellow canary, who fluffed the flakes off his feathers self-importantly and side-stepped over to Blaine, exposing his leg, where there was a small piece of string attaching it to an envelope that seemed ludicrously large compared to tiny bird. "Thanks, Pav," Blaine said sincerely as he stroked the canary's wings fondly, before picking apart the knot and examining the letter.

"Something important?" Kurt asked curiously, nodding to it.

"Very," Blaine replied. He scanned the address once again and smiled.

_Kurt Hummel_  
_Hufflepuff boys' dormitory_  
_Hogwarts_

"It's for you."

Kurt met Blaine's gaze quickly and frowned. "For me?" he repeated. "Who's it from?"

Blaine crossed the room to Kurt, handing him the letter and beaming still.

Kurt's eyes looked over the envelope and then turned glassy. "You sent Pav to my dad?"

"You said he doesn't understand using owls, so I sent him a letter with a very versatile canary." Pavarotti chirruped agreeably, and Kurt stood up and hugged Blaine tightly.

"Thank you," he whispered, barely audible. "Thank you so much."

Blaine laughed and pulled Kurt off him, cupping his cheeks with his hands and looking him in the eye. "You don't have to thanks me for that," he said. "You've deserved that for years - besides, it's only half of your Christmas present."

Kurt sniffled tearily, but beamed and kissed Blaine briefly. Blaine clutched Kurt's free hand with one of his, leaving the other on Kurt's jaw, before letting go and moving to get dressed.

By the time Kurt had finished penning his reply to his father, Blaine was sat on Mike's bed next to him, leaning his head on Kurt's shoulder sleepily.

"Pavarotti will be okay to take this to my dad later, right?" Kurt clarified.

"Of course," Blaine replied over the canary's incredulous chirp. "Just give him a couple of hours, and he'll be fine."

"Good." Kurt smiled, and then turned his head to meet Blaine's gaze. "Hi."

"Hey." Blaine grinned, still leaning on Kurt's shoulder. "Merry Christmas."

Kurt's eyes flickered around the dormitory. "Did you not get any presents from your family?"

Blaine wrinkled his nose unenthusiastically. "My parents only give me presents when I go home for the holidays," he explained. "And, believe me, it's not worth it." He shrugged. "I'm not too bothered, in the grand scheme of things - my parents've never been very good with the whole 'parenting' thing."

"I'm sorry," Kurt said sincerely, absently rubbing his thumbs over Blaine's knuckles. "What about your brother?"

"Cooper, he's… away. A lot." Blaine frowned, trying to remember the last time the two of them had seen each other. "I guess we don't really talk anymore." He sniffed brightly in an effort to change the mood of the conversation. "But, anyway, I need to give you _your_ present."

Blaine leapt off Kurt's bed and felt around under his own, pulling out a gift roughly the size of a shoebox, wrapped and with a neat bow.

"Blaine, you didn't have to - "

"Shush and take the present," Blaine laughed, handing Kurt the Honeydukes gift box. "Chocolate is the very least you deserve."

Kurt smiled bashfully and accepted the box with a quiet, "thank you," laying it gently on his pillow before rolling onto his stomach and fishing around in his trunk for the slightly smaller gift that he handed to Blaine.

The present was heavy, and Blaine weighed it curiously in his hands, before ripping open the paper and seeing, to his surprise, the beaming face of Gilderoy Lockhart. The title, 'Magical Me', was embossed on the cover just above his chuckling portrait - which offered Blaine a wink as he burst out laughing.

"Brilliant!" he exclaimed, still not fully over the book's unexpectedness, but finding it hilarious all the same. "Absolutely brilliant." He grinned at Kurt, who looked relieved that he liked it. "How _did_ you know?"

Kurt laughed too, nodding at the book and saying, "there's something inside, as well."

Blaine opened the cover curiously, glancing over the inside, when he saw it.

_Mr Anderson!_  
_Can't believe you don't already own a copy of this! I hope you enjoy reading about all of my many exploits - save what you learn for the classroom, though, eh?_  
_Have a splendid holiday!_

And there, at the bottom, Lockhart's signature. By the side, Kurt had drawn an arrow to the paragraph and written:

_This guy? Really?_  
_Merry Christmas._  
_K_

"He saw me come out of Flourish and Blott's and he asked what I bought," Kurt explained. "It was probably the most awkward encounter of my life."

Blaine laughed again, picturing the scene. "He's almost difficult to dislike," he pondered. "You have to admit, it's kind of endearing."

"'Almost' and 'kind of' being the operative words," Kurt sighed goodnaturedly.

It was difficult to stop laughing: Blaine was so taken with Christmas and Kurt that he, spur of the moment, took Kurt's face in his hands and smooched him cheesily. "You're amazing," he beamed, feeling pleasantly lightheaded.

Kurt tutted in mock bigheadedness. "I know," he shrugged, with a roll of his eyes, before smiling into the next kiss.

Christmas was shaping up to be very good indeed.

* * *

The mood of the students seemed to improve dramatically over the Christmas holidays, and, by their end in January, it was almost as though the hospital wing were not littered with Petrified students. Unfortunately, Kurt still had to perform all of his extra precautionary duties (though Blaine tended to brighten them up) - but the main things that worried Kurt was having to return to his Slytherin dorm. The rest of his roommates, he was sure, would be none too pleased to have him back again.

Blaine had feebly tried to suggest that they could alternate beds, but Kurt waved away the idea, and the last day of the holidays became rather sombre. Mike, who returned mid-afternoon with the rest of the holidayers, met up with the two of them at dinner, where they explained the disappointing situation.

"The password to your dorm is _'Pure-blood'_?!" Mike exclaimed incredulously. "That's practically racist! You should complain."

Kurt sighed defeatedly and said, "it hardly matters, anyway. The main problem is sharing that damn room with Sebastian and the rest of the Slytherins."

Blaine nodded sadly. "I just wish there were something we could do…"

"Come stay with us." Mike had stated it plainly. "Just… move in."

Kurt paused. "Mike, there isn't a - "

"Bed?" Mike finished expectantly. "Rubbish! We can bring up your mattress, easy. If we move Blaine's bed over a little, there'll be plenty of floor space."

Kurt and Blaine looked at each other in surprise.

"It sounds so simple when you say it like that," Blaine murmured.

Mike rolled his eyes. "Hopeless, that's what you two are. We can go down to your dorm and get everything you need straight after dinner, Kurt."

Kurt was a bit shellshocked. "Thanks, Mike," he replied, dumbfounded. "Are you sure that - ?"

"Finn and the other guys? Don't be ridiculous!" Mike waved his hand airily. "They think you're cool, and most of them can empathise with your having a pretty crappy time of things." He smiled warmly.

Kurt beamed. "You guys are too good to me."

Blaine took his hand under the table. "We try."

Kurt didn't even care that his first lesson of the morning was Potions with Snape. Waking up five feet from Blaine and they and Mike heading down to breakfast together felt like a dream. There was no date he had to return to the Slytherin common room by; the rest of the Hufflepuffs had made very few enquiries about the move; even Sebastian and Rachel were simply ignoring him. In Kurt's eyes, nothing could get better than this.

As the term progressed, Kurt fell into his new routine easily: kissing Blaine on the cheek at the Hufflepuff breakfast table before morning lessons; lunch and dinner with Blaine, Mike, Sam and Tine; doing homework cross-legged on his mattress in the evenings. The ever-present stress from the teachers about the upcoming N.E.W.T. exams just rolled right off Kurt's back, and life was glorious. He'd even managed to start semi-regular communications with his dad, thanks to brilliant little Pavarotti. As each day went by, the time since the last Petrification increased, and it felt as though the whole school breathed more easily. Kurt left his nightmares about giant snakes down in the dungeons with the Slytherins. Let them worry about their own Heir.

Unluckily, Gilderoy Lockhart was slowly becoming more and more unbearable. He strutted around his room, the corridors, the grounds, saying things like, "I think the Chamber has been locked for good this time," and, "the culprit must have known it was only a matter of time before I caught them," tapping his nose knowingly and fooling absolutely nobody.

But even that couldn't dampen Kurt's spirits. He and Blaine laughed it off together in their Defence Against the Dark Arts classes, and moaned emphatically to Mike about the teacher over meals.

Valentine's Day came and went and Kurt barely even noticed - who needed a specific day to spent time with their boyfriend? - and, as the spring term started drawing to its close, flowers leapt up all over the Hogwarts grounds. Kurt wondered if this was why so many people seemed to love Hogwarts so much - because, if you manage to find the right people to spend your time with, it did start to feel like home.

* * *

**A/N: Only one term left before the end of the Hogwarts year! It's all getting very exciting. I might recommend, since it's the summer holidays and you hopefully have some free time, rereading the second Harry Potter book, since I'm trying to stick as close to its canon as possible (y'know, what with there being a bunch of Glee characters in it now), if you fancy some kind of teaser before the next chapter comes out. That hopefully won't be too far away a time, but I'm making no promises - but know that this fanfic is definitely one of my top priorities now. Have a good day, and happy reading!**


	13. Chapter 13

As the summer term started, all that anyone was talking about was the Quidditch season. Blaine enjoyed watching the matches and was excited to cheer for whomever wasn't Slytherin in the upcoming ones, but Kurt was more cynical.

"It's just dull," he sighed over dinner, the night before a particularly anticipated Hufflepuff vs. Gryffindor game. "You can barely see anything and you just have to stand around yelling for ages." At this point, he caught Blaine's eye shamelessly and added, "there are plenty of other things I'd _rather_ be doing," and Blaine had been forced to agree, much to Mike's frustration.

But the discussion about Quidditch had seem to miff Kurt a little, as he ended up claiming a headache and going to bed early. Blaine considered trying to apologise, but Mike talked him out of it.

"Things are always better in the morning," he advised. "Sleep on it and then you can talk it out without yawning."

Blaine opened his mouth to argue, but yawned instead, and decided it was probably for the best.

However, Blaine didn't manage to get much sleep that night, as he was woken while it was still dark by a whimper of pain from Kurt. Blaine sat up blearily and pulled the yellow bed curtains back to see Kurt, still asleep, but jaw clenched and brow furrowed, sweat making his face shine in the moonlight from the windows.

"Kurt - " Blaine murmured urgently, shaking his head to clear it and clambering out of bed quickly, kneeling down next to Kurt and raising his hands, poised to do something.

Kurt was breathing fast, his chest rising and falling so quickly that it had barely started one action before it began the other. With every outward breath, he gave a tiny, involuntary moan.

Blaine wondered in panic if it was the flu, or measles, or appendicitis, and cursed himself - Kurt would know exactly what to do, were their positions switched. He briefly considered waking Mike, but what would that solve?

Blaine pressed a palm against Kurt's forehead, and was surprised to find it a completely normal temperature.

So, Kurt wasn't ill - at least, it couldn't be very serious, if he weren't even slightly warm.

In the end, Blaine settled for just holding Kurt until he could come up with a better plan of action. Now that he was more alert, he had to admit that Kurt didn't look ill, so much as scared. A bad dream, maybe? Regardless, Blaine carefully lifted up Kurt's torso and laid it across his lap, cupping his boyfriend's neck and head with his arm and managing to lean against the wall to maintain this (mildly) awkward position.

Once he managed to settle into it, it was rather comfortable, and Kurt seemed to have quietened as well.

"…Blaine…?"

Blaine had blinked and it was suddenly morning, the early sunlight glaring wickedly at him and making him squint. He frowned and looked away from the window.

It was Kurt who had spoken: he lay in the same position Blaine had put him in, and had sleepy, half-open eyes. He looked much better than he had, but he still seemed pale and clammy.

"Kurt - are you alright?"

The response took longer than Blaine would ideally have liked.

"I… I don't know." Kurt frowned, sniffing. "I feel so… drained… I had the worst dream…"

"What was it about?"

Kurt's eyes became distant, searching for the answer. "I can't remember," he responded eventually. "It's gone." He looked at Blaine, wide-eyed. "But I think I was the most scared I've ever been in my life."

"You looked positively ill," Blaine said. "I woke up and you were groaning and panting - "

Kurt smiled weakly. "You make it sound like I was having sex."

Blaine half-laughed, shaking his head. "Was it a - ?" he began, not quite sure how to phrase it.

"A 'vision'?" Kurt suggested tiredly, already closing his eyes again.

"Well… yeah. Was it?"

A sigh. "I guess so," Kurt answered, "I mean, it felt so - so _real_ \- and that only ever happens…" He trailed off sleepily. "I wish I could remember…" he muttered. "I mean, I feel like crap as it is; I at least want to know why."

Blaine nodded understandingly. "Let's not worry about it now," he yawned. "Just try to focus on feeling better." He closed his eyes. "It's Saturday, so you have the whole…"

Blink.

It was definitely morning now. Mike and Finn and the other two Hufflepuff boys had presumably headed off to breakfast, or the Quidditch match. Blaine and Kurt had been left alone, though Kurt was definitely still pale and was tiredly complaining of a headache. Blaine sighed.

"We should go to Madam Pomfrey," he said.

"Blaine… I'm not ill."

"Well, you certainly seem like it!" Blaine hated the responsibility of looking after Kurt when neither of them had any idea what was wrong. "Or, if this is to do with your visions, should we go to Professor Trelawney?"

"Oh, lord, no, she'll just tell me I'm going to die," Kurt moaned.

"Kurt, I can't just leave you like this!" Blaine cried despairingly. "There's gotta be something I can do!"

"I don't know - it's never been this bad before." Kurt tried to sit up and flopped back down, clutching the side of his head in pain. "I'm normally fine after a bit," he said eventually, but Blaine could hear the pain in his voice.

"I'm going to try to find someone - "

"Blaine, don't _fetch_ someone - "

"Alright, I'll find some_thing_." Blaine stood up, carefully laying Kurt down onto his pillow. "I'm going to the library: there's got to be a book about this somewhere." And, despite Kurt's mumbled protests, he left.

There wasn't anyone around as Blaine hurried to the library: he supposed the Quidditch match must be starting soon. It was, therefore, quite surprising when Blaine entered the library and saw a mass of bushy dark hair dashing between the bookshelves. Curious, Blaine took a few steps closer, and recognised Hermione Granger, Harry Potter's Muggleborn friend. That was less surprising, admittedly - Hermione virtually inhabited the library (she had been in it every time Blaine had) - but it was odd that she wasn't watching her friend as Seeker. Feeling slightly foolish trying to make small talk with a twelve-year-old, Blaine cleared his throat loudly and asked, "shouldn't you be at the Quidditch match?"

Hermione spun around quickly, looking him over and frowning slightly. "Shouldn't you?"

Deciding that that was a fair enough response, he nodded to the ancient-looking book in her hands and tried, "what's that?"

The second-year paused, but, seeming to sense that Blaine was genuinely interested, she grudgingly showed him the cover and replied, "I've been trying to work out what the Chamber of Secrets monster is." She heaved the booked onto a table with a loud bang, and started flicking through the pages. "It must have its own way of getting around the school without being seen; I think it speaks in Parseltongue; all the evidence points to it being some kind of - "

"Giant snake," Blaine finished numbly, thinking back to Kurt just after Halloween and cursing himself for dismissing it at the time.

Hermione paused. "Exactly." She flipped onto a page entitled _The Basilisk_.

Blaine could barely breathe. "But, there's not been an attack in over a term," he justified. "Maybe it's just… gone."

With a roll of her eyes, Hermione said, "my friend Harry speaks Parseltongue, and he heard it moving about - ten minutes ago."

Blaine's blood ran cold. Kurt was on his own, vulnerable and potentially coming to look for him at any moment, and there was a deadly Basilisk roaming the empty castle, looking for fresh meat.

"You came here on your own?" he choked out to the twelve-year-old.

"Well, I wasn't sure," she argued defensively, before adding quietly, "but, now, I am."

Blaine tried to think. "The Hufflepuff dorm is closest," he said quickly. "My boyfriend's there right now; it's safe." He swallowed nervously, his stomach both pulled tight and falling out through the soles of his feet. "We can stay there until the Quidditch match is over, and then we have to tell someone."

"How do you know it's safe?" Hermione returned. "We don't know how this thing is travelling around!"

Blaine sighed desperately. "Well, if you were a giant snake, how would you move around a school?"

Hermione paused, before grabbing a quill and quickly scribbling at the side of the page: _pipes_. In another smooth movement, she ripped the page from the book. "We need the evidence," she reasoned, clutching the paper in her hand.

Blaine nodded. "So, let's go!" he said urgently.

But Hermione shook her head again. "The Basilisk kills you by looking at you," she explained quickly, "but only Petrifies you if you see its reflection." After only a moment of searching, she proudly grabbed a small mirror off a side table. "We should check round corners with this to stay safe," she instructed, showing it to Blaine, who was so desperate to go and find Kurt that he thought he was about to cry.

"Okay, thank you," he said, too scared to marvel at Hermione's level-headedness. "Now, can we please _get out of here_?"

* * *

Kurt was in and out of a doze all morning. His consciousness kept feeling like it was wading through treacle, occasionally letting him think and feel as normal, before his mind swamped over again, leaving him dazed and incoherent.

After Blaine left, Kurt spent a few moments debating whether or not to go after him, but, given that he wasn't dressed and felt as though someone were sawing through his brain, he decided against it, before the fog covered his thoughts again.

He was vaguely aware of time passing: each time he opened his eyes, the shadows in the room would have moved a fraction; he'd feel warmer, colder; there were the telltale voices from the common room alerting him that the Quidditch match must have finished. His pillow still smelt like Blaine from when Blaine had leant on it earlier on, and Kurt breathed in the odd but pleasant mixture of raspberry, cotton, and the unplaceable scent that was just _Blaine_, sleepily, willing himself to keep alert.

By the time Kurt finally felt well enough to stand up, it was well past lunchtime, and he took his time putting on his robes. He couldn't hear anything from the common, and came down the stairs to see -

The entirety of Hufflepuff house was gathered in the common room, Professor Sprout standing solemnly before them. Kurt panicked, feeling out of place and awkward, but he spotted Mike nearby and gratefully inched over to him.

"What's happening?" he whispered, but was silenced with an urgent wave of Mike's hand.

"All students will return to their house common rooms by six o'clock in the evening. No student is to leave the dormitories after that time. You will be escorted to each lesson by a teacher. No student is to use the bathroom unaccompanied by a teacher. All further Quidditch training and matches are to be postponed. There will be no more evening activites." Professor Sprout rolled up the parchment from which she was reading and said, "if the culprit - this 'Heir of Slytherin' - isn't found, it's very likely that the school will close down." There were horrified gasps from around the room, and the teacher nodded. "It's just not safe to keep everyone here with all of this happening, and, even though the Mandrakes are growing up nicely, we could be facing some even greater tragedies than just the students we've seen Petrified."

Kurt paused, eyes darting round the room. Where was Blaine? He'd left to go to the library hours ago, and should have returned well before the rest of the Hufflepuff students. And what had brought on all of this updated security, anyway?

Kurt's heart stopped. His chest felt tight with that immediate panic one feels when one's mind jumps to the nastiest conclusions. He turned to Mike again. "Where's Blaine?" he asked firmly.

Mike looked at his for a moment, and shook his head. "I don't know," he replied in a small voice. "I haven't seen him."

Professor Sprout was preparing to leave the room, and Kurt crossed it as quickly as he could, vaulting a sofa and shoving aside a first-year in order to make his cries of "Professor!" audible over the general hubbub of the room.

Finally, she looked up and saw him. "Mr - Hummel," she said, surprise stealing her miserable expression. "What are you doing in here?"

Kurt was in too much of a panic to care that he had exposed his illegal move to the Hufflepuff dorm, and quickly asked, "do you know where Blaine is? Blaine Anderson?"

The expression now on Professor Sprout's face was all he needed to see. Kurt felt tears spring to his eyes and his shoulders heaved and he involuntarily took a breath but his chest felt so tight he surely couldn't breathe -

"How do you know Blaine Anderson?" Professor Sprout asked slowly, eyes wide and sad.

"He's - " Kurt choked for a moment, and tried to keep his composure. "He's my boyfriend."

Professor Sprout looked even more upset than she already did. "Mr Hummel… I'm afraid that… Blaine…"

Kurt tried to say, "no," but his vocal chords had stopped working.

"Blaine's in the hospital wing," Professor Sprout said gravely, sounding teary herself. "He… he's been…"

No.

Don't say it.

Please, please, don't say it.

If you don't say it, it isn't true.

"He's been Petrified."

Kurt thought that his legs were going to give out from underneath him. He couldn't breathe and his heartbeat was hammering in his ears. It felt as though the world had stopped turning, and it was just in space - all except for him, who'd kept moving, and had been thrown off the surface of the Earth into the darkness beyond.

Somehow, he found his voice.

"Can I see him?"

It came out small and scared. Just how he felt.

"We're not really supposed to - " Professor Sprout began, before slowly nodding and saying, "come on with me."

The two of them left the common room, striding quickly up to the hospital wing - Kurt was almost running - and coming to a stop outside the door.

"Kurt - " Professor Sprout was cut off by Kurt completely ignoring her and wrenching the door open, stumbling into the room. His eyes passed over two boys he didn't recognise, a girl with bushy dark hair, and then -

"_Blaine_."

Kurt was stood by the side of Blaine's bed, though he couldn't remember getting there.

Blaine was laid on the bed, completely frozen. He looked as though he'd been made from wax. His right hand was pressed flat against the mattress, tilting the rest of his body a little to the left. His left hand was outstretched, fingers splayed out. The tendons in his hand looked taught and tense. His feet were far apart - if he'd been standing, they would have been firmly planted. His eyes were wide, scared, and his mouth was slightly open.

It didn't feel real. Kurt stood next to the bed, desperately wishing that this was a dream, a hallucination, _anything_.

And then the tears started falling. They were angry, red, hot - but, at the same time, they were dead and so full of lost hope. He clutched at Blaine's hand, and it was cold, hard, still. Lifeless. Nothing like the beautiful, warm person who had held Kurt while he slept, mere hours ago.

Kurt cupped Blaine's jaw with his hands, feeling the cold of what couldn't be Blaine's skin on his own. He pressed their foreheads together, as he was so used to doing, but everything was wrong.

Blaine - his beautiful, brilliant Blaine - had completely gone, leaving this shell that looked like him but absolutely wasn't.

Kurt felt like he was going to die. It was his fault. If he hadn't've been ill, they would've both been at the Quidditch match with everyone else, and now…

Now, Kurt wouldn't be praying to a deity he didn't believe in, weeping uncontrollably and rubbing Blaine's neck in some ridiculous hope that, if he could just warm Blaine up a little, the spell would be broken, and Blaine would wake up, absolutely fine.

"No." Kurt barely even heard himself say it, even though he was sure he'd said it so loud it echoed. "No - no, Blaine…" A shuddering breath. A sob. A sniff. "Blaine - Blaine, _please_…"

Let it be him instead. Please, please, let them swap places: let Kurt be the one lying on the bed, unmoving, barely alive. Let Blaine be warm and breathing and _here_. Let this be _anyone_ but Blaine, anyone at all…

Kurt was crying openly, huge, wracking sobs echoing out the door. He didn't care who heard. His face was buried in Blaine's shoulder, and he clutched onto his inanimate boyfriend desperately, the material of Blaine's robes bunching in his hands, and a dark patch on the shoulder slowly growing in size the longer Kurt cried. He cried until he couldn't cry anymore, until he couldn't do anything anymore. Madam Pomfrey, sensing that Kurt would not move unless moved, gently guided him out the room to Professor Sprout, who was still waiting outside. Kurt would have objected - he would have fought tooth and nail to get back inside - but he couldn't muster the energy, he had exhausted himself so. As well as that, some far-off part of his brain decided that this solid, unmoving _thing_ couldn't possibly be Blaine, instilling in Kurt and instinctive desire to get away from this lifeless imitation as quickly as possible.

He followed Professor Sprout down the stairs without thinking, until she walked right past the corridor to the Hufflepuff common room, seeming to be leading Kurt down to the dungeons.

"No," he croaked, stopping suddenly.

Professor Sprout turned around. "Mr Hummel, you need to go back to your dormitory immediately - "

"No." It was the only thing Kurt trusted himself to say. It felt like the only word he knew.

The Professor looked tired and upset. "I'm sorry, Mr Hummel, but I can't facilitate - "

"No."

"I can speak to Professor Snape about - "

"No." Kurt didn't know or care what Professor Sprout had been about to say. He, instead, headed off down the corridor to the Hufflepuff common room, followed by a very loudly objecting Professor Sprout. He tapped the barrels with his wand automatically, oblivious to the teacher's gasp of surprise when the entrance opened. Kurt almost fell into the common room, collapsing straight into Mike, who had come running when he saw Kurt appear.

"Kurt, oh my god, what's happened?" Mike grabbed at him and held him upright, and Kurt heard the exchange between him and Professor Sprout as though they were the other side of a glass wall.

"Mr Chang, what's the meaning of this?"

"The meaning of what? Where's Blaine?"

"How does Mr Hummel here know how to get into this common room?"

"He moved. But - "

"You cannot just _move_ dormitories, Mr Chang - "

"Well, we did. And it's done Kurt a world of good. Blaine, too, I think." Mike's voice was resigned as he added, "Blaine's been Petrified, hasn't he?"

A pause.

"Yes, Mr Chang, he has."

Kurt felt Mike's shoulders slump and heard his exhalation. "Oh, no."

"Mr Chang. The two of you have my deepest sympathies, but Mr Hummel need to go back to his own dormitory."

"This _is_ his own dormitory," Mike stated bluntly, before turning around and guiding Kurt inside.

Kurt was grateful for the quiet, once they got up to their room. Mike led him gently over to his mattress, and he slumped down heavily, burying his face in his pillow that still smelled of Blaine.

Maybe, if he lay here long enough, this really would all turn out to be an awful nightmare - that he'd wake up and Blaine would be completely fine.

Or maybe he'd just die and not have this unbearable ache in his chest anymore.

* * *

**A/N: So, here's the full chapter! Sorry for the delay in the second half - I was just so psyched to get this up for you guys. Let me know what you think of this plot advancement (it's pretty tense, I know) by favouriting/following this story, if you liked it - or you could even review it (it takes, like, a minute, but it really makes my day). As per usual, I'm following _Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets_ book canon as far as possible (since we have a few American high-schoolers here, it make some bits harder to follow than others), so if you want to reacquaint yourself with that, we're now up to chapter 14. I hope you're enjoying the story thus far, and I hope to be updating it again fairly soon, but, until then, have a great day and happy reading!**


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